


Fidelity

by Tahlruil



Series: What I (Never Knew I) Wanted [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 111,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6566434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With both Bull and the Inquisitor unable to give their partners the exclusivity they crave, Dorian and Cullen try to drink themselves into forgetfulness... and end up stumbling into something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drinking and Settling

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, idk.
> 
> Started as an attempt to fill a k-meme prompt and then it... turned into this. I dunno. Will probably continue it? 
> 
> idk
> 
> I don't own the Dragon Age.

They’d never promised not to sleep with other people.

Dorian was trying to remember that, but it was hard when the hurt was thick as bile in his throat. Funny how the whiskey he’d been downing for the last half hour hadn’t managed to cut through it in the slightest. “Perhaps I should have grabbed the wine…” At least that way drowning his sorrows would have tasted better.

Seeing Bull with the Inquisitor had been a kick to the face, but part of him had understood. Sylaera Lavellan was quite the woman, and being pulled to her was almost inevitable if you were an enjoyer of female flesh. Even Blackwall was constantly making cow eyes at her. Everyone _loved_ the lady, so he hadn’t truly begrudged his lover that rendezvous.

It had been harder when he caught the Qunari with Josephine. The Chantry lay sister had been even harder, but he supposed it _was_ right there in her title. That time with the new quartermaster had been almost unbearable – the lad was green as grass and couldn’t even say hello without stuttering. 

He’d put up with it all because they’d never promised, but each discovery stayed with him, burning in his gut like acid. The knowledge that the lummox likely had even more paramours that he’d ever know about haunted him. When he’d casually brought up the encounters to Bull, the great horned ox hadn’t even bothered to look ashamed; he’d simply shrugged and said that while Dorian was his kadan, other people sometimes needed what he could give.

_’What about what I need?’_ , he’d wanted to ask, biting back the words only through force of habit. He was used to this sort of thing, of course. Really, this relationship with Bull exemplified every one he’d had in Tevinter. Fidelity was something two men could never _really_ promise each other, so… you learned to settle. Over and over and over, Dorian had settled.

How foolish of him to think it would be different here.

The latest blow was one he wasn’t sure he could recover from. Walking into his room to find his lover in HIS bed, fucking one of the male servants had been an indescribable experience; he only marveled he hadn’t set anything or anyone on fire. Bull hadn’t even had the decency to stop – he’d actually waved Dorian in, as if expecting the mage to join in on the frolicking. The frolicking he wanted no part of.

The frolicking happening in his own fucking bed _without him_.

Snarling at the thought, Dorian hurled his glass into the semi-darkness that surrounded him. When it smashed against the wall, he felt a moment’s vicious satisfaction. Then he realized that he’d have to start drinking straight from the bottle, like one of the southern barbarians he was surrounded by. Well, life went on, one supposed.

And it didn’t stop him from taking another swallow of harsh liquor, so the problem wasn’t even that dire. He still pulled a face when he did though, doing his best not to cough and splutter. Whiskey was usually not his drink of choice, and choking it down was harder than he’d thought it would be. Not that thinking had been involved when he grabbed hold of a bottle of the stuff and stalked here, to his private sanctuary. He was getting better at drinking it – at least now he could swallow almost a whole mouthful without wanting to die.

“Maker’s breath, what is this place?”

The voice made Dorian growl before he placed it – he was in no mood to talk to anyone. When he realized it belonged to Cullen, he made a conscious effort to tone down his rage. The Commander deserved better than his cattiness, so he’d try to shoo the man without getting _too_ nasty.

“This is going to be the arcane library once my collection arrives from Tevinter. Assuming my family will actually send it, anyway. I may have to stoop to begging books from other families – my mother will die from the shame of it.” As he was speaking, Cullen rounded the corner and entered the room, looking around with trepidation on his face; Dorian couldn’t really blame him for that. Small and out of the way, the place was filled with dust, mostly empty shelves, a huge book he couldn’t read and a ghostly light he associated with veilfire. After stumbling upon it quite by accident, he’d claimed it as his own. Abandoning the largely useless library upstairs, he’d taken to devoting his time to this room, sorting through the books to gauge their usefulness; most got sent upstairs straightaway. The dust was something he worked around and addressed only as needed, because someone as fabulous as he did _not_ spend their time cleaning.

“I’d love to give you a tour, Commander, but I’m not quite up to entertaining. Feel free to grab a book and then show yourself out.” After saluting the blond with the bottle in his hand, he took a swig and turned away, hoping the other would just leave. Unfortunately, it was his day to be disappointed.

“Dorian? I didn’t think to find you here. Or a room, for that matter. A tour is certainly unnecessary, as I think I can see most of it right now.”

Normally, the man’s voice was quite pleasant, and teasing the oh-so stiff and proper Cullen was something he adored. They even played chess together, when the Inquisitor wasn’t leading him around by his cock. But just then, all he wanted was for the man to be _gone_ so he could wallow in his misery, so he did what he hadn’t wanted to do.

He got nasty.

“If you’re looking for lady Lavellan, you won’t find her here. You should try checking beds; never know which one she’ll turn up in. I believe yesterday she was spending some time with Sera, but I’m sure she’s moved on by now… in the barn with Blackwall, perhaps?”

The silence was nearly deafening, and if Dorian were just a little less drunk, he would have hurried to apologize and worked to mend fences. Instead, he let the comment stand, hoping that the other man would leave… but he heard no footsteps, which meant the Commander was still at his back – at his back and furious at the insult to his lady, no doubt. Fasta vass, he shouldn’t have said that; Cullen might not even know, and if he did… Dorian knew what it was like to have it pointed out and rubbed in his face. 

“Cullen, I-“

He’d turned, shoulders slumped as he tried to think of something to say that would make it better but still get the damned man to go away. The sight of his friend, however, made him stop in his tracks. Like him, the blonde had a bottle clutched in his right hand – his knuckles were white and his hand shaking slightly, and Dorian feared the glass wouldn’t hold up much longer under such an intense grip. He looked absolutely furious as predicted, anger hot in his honey brown eyes, nostrils flared and rimmed with white. There was tension in every line of his body, and his left hand was groping for the sword he usually wore at his side; Dorian had noted before that he often held onto the hilt whenever he was feeling unsure, as if the feel of it under his fingers was soothing.

Just then, he was very, very glad the other man didn’t have it to hold onto, as he liked his head where it was.

When Cullen finally spoke, it was low and with great feeling… and anger. “You think I don’t _know_? She certainly thinks me stupid enough not to realize. Cooing at me and batting her lashes, she pretends to see only me...” Suddenly their gazes clashed, and the mage felt his breath leave his lungs with astonishing swiftness. He’d never seen the Commander this upset, this distraught, this… _passionate_. It spoke to his Tevinter sensibilities, but he brought those to heel quickly. Or he tried to, at least. “I may not have a host of spies at my beck and call like Leliana, but I command the forces of the Inquisition. Do you truly believe I do not have eyes and ears everywhere in Skyhold? While they are meant to prevent assassinations and curb some of the ridiculous games the visiting dignitaries get up to, they report everything they see. Everything. I have known since the beginning that I am one of many; I am not special to her.”

Dorian wondered if it was the first time he’d made the admission out loud. All the strength drained from his body and he staggered forward, almost dropping the bottle. The mage stepped forward as if to help, but the other man waved away, practically falling into one of the chairs Dorian had moved here. “I am… alright. It is simply…” Giving a growl that put Dorian’s to shame, he kicked the desk hard enough to make the book laid open on it shiver; the mage only just resisted the urge to scold him for his carelessness. The blond took a gulp of the liquor he’d brought and promptly shuddered, his face screwing up into an expression of absolute disgust before he started coughing. The fit lasted almost as long as Dorian’s had when he’d taken his first pull of whiskey.

“By the Maker… that’s terrible.” His voice sounded weak and hoarse, and he looked like he’d just swallowed bronto piss… but he still took another large gulp, gagging on whatever it was he was drinking.

“I don’t know what that is, but perhaps you should set it aside. Gagging is almost never a good sign, Commander.” Any other time he would have elaborated to finish the joke, but he simply didn’t have it in him that night.

“No. I’m drinking this, and then I’m going to smash the bottle before I go back and grab another mystery beverage. Once I finish that swill, the bottle will join the first and I might get another.”

Confused, Dorian’s slightly tipsy mind tried to work it out; when he finally did, he couldn’t help the smirk that curled his lips upward.

“Oh, you sly dog you. I’d forgotten all about that ridiculous collection of hers – what use could all those bottles ever have? Even the Wardens abandoned them. The room she keeps them in is just down the hall, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I was there getting this when I heard glass shatter. I felt it was my duty to investigate.” Pausing, the blond looked down at his bottle, consternation on his face. “I should… take this back. Such petty actions are unworthy of me.”

“Nonsense. I applaud your genius, Commander! Very devious of you; as a scary Tevinter mage, I approve whole-heartedly. If it wouldn’t tip her off, I’d set all the bottles on fire for you. She’d know it was me though, and she is, quite frankly, scarier than you.”

Cullen was smiling just a little, and Dorian was glad of it. “I suppose she is at that. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for my sake, or I would _ask_ you to set all the bottles on fire. It would be most satisfying to watch them burn.”

“Ooh, he likes fire now. Interesting.” Pausing only to take another swallow of his drink, he eyed the other man curiously. “I know why I came here to drink myself into a stupor. Bull is absolutely terrible at monogamy – even worse than your lady. What did she do to finally provoke the even-tempered Templar?”

“Former Templar.” Cullen reminded him absently, eyes on Dorian as the mage perched on the edge of the desk in front of him. “Which is why I would feel only a little badly at asking you to use magic to help me achieve my revenge. And I…” Pain throbbed in those usually warm eyes, and then he averted his gave. “I would not speak of it, if you don’t mind.” Lavellan didn’t know what she had in him, Dorian realized, watching as the Commander chugged the liquor in his bottle, grimacing all the while.

“She is a fool.” When he realized he’d spoken aloud, he was the one to look away from Cullen’s puzzled expression, smoothing his mustache in a show of nerves. “The Inquisitor, I mean. For all your delightfully awkward shyness, you are a good man – you’ve been good to her. She has you completely – your undivided attention, your heart – no, your very soul – are in her hands, and she doesn’t see it for the marvelous gift that is.” He couldn’t keep the longing out of his voice; he’d dreamed of someone looking at him the way Cullen looked at the Inquisitor. All he’d ever wanted was a man that wanted him above all others, a man who would let nothing stand in the way of their love. Cullen gave that to Lavellan despite not getting the same returned. It was what he was trying to give to Bull, only the big idiot didn’t seem to realize it.

“If that is true… then Iron Bull is as well.” When Dorian looked back to him, eyebrows raised, the other man’s cheeks were pink. The dark-haired man couldn’t help but grin; Cullen always got embarrassed whenever he thought of Dorian’s preferences. Not in a horrible bigoted way, but in an adorable, awkward way that reminded him of a puppy that was all paws. A way that certainly did not make Dorian want to educate him in all the ways men could give each other pleasure. No, not in the slightest. “I know you two are, ah, _involved_ , and I know he does not value that the way he should. I…” Floundering a moment, the Commander seemed at a loss for words. “If I had someone willing to choose me before anyone else, _instead_ of anyone else, I would not throw it away so easily.”

“Then why do neither of us leave? We are both spectacular men, worthy of love and affection. We should be showered with attention with men – and women – vying for us. We deserve lovers who will, as you say, choose us. So why do we settle?”

“Because it’s easier. It hurts – Maker does it hurt – but it’s better than sleeping alone in my bed every night. At least she’s there sometimes.”

“And sometimes is enough.” Laughing bitterly, Dorian shook his head then looked up at the ceiling. “I suppose we understand each other better than our lovers ever will. I tell myself that sometimes is enough, that it’s enough to have a sliver of his affection… but it isn’t. You do the same for her, and we watch as they give other people the parts of them that should be ours. We are pathetic specimens, my friend. Love has gotten the better of us, and we didn’t even try to put up a fight.” Carefully, decisively, he set down his bottle and slid from his perch. Though he didn’t think he was that drunk, he swayed just a moment on his feet before standing tall.

“Where are you going?” Cullen asked quickly, frowning as he stood as well. “I… thought I wanted to drink alone, but… I find I do not mind _your_ company just now.”

The slight emphasis on ‘your’ had Dorian thinking all kinds of wicked, naughty things; things he had no right to think while claiming his heart belonged to Bull. “I’m not going anywhere, Commander. I have simply decided to help you in your quest for revenge. Between the two of us, we can make quite the dent in that silly collection.”

And they did.

Dorian lost track of how long they stayed there in that small room, drinking themselves into a blissful state of being. There was an alarming number of bottles littering the floor – alarming until one remembered none of them had been completely full to begin with. That downgraded alarming into worrying. Not that either of _them_ were concerned, of course.

Having given up on chairs when neither one could stay on them, they were on the floor side-by-side, leaning against the shelves behind them and each other. They’d passed the maudlin part of the evening and were beyond even the giggles; they’d now settled into philosophy. Very deep and very meaningful bullshit was spewing forth, and Dorian couldn’t even really keep track of what they were talking about.

“So I said… I said… Mer’dith, ‘s wrong.” Cullen was still mostly coherent, his slurring coming and going in fits. “Can’t annul… whole Circle. An’ers wasn’ even _in_ th’ Circle. ‘S the truth. Maker’s hones’ truth. ‘S how I started… started thinkin’.”

“Thinking what, exactly?” Where the Commander slurred, Dorian was being very, very careful to enunciate properly. So much so, in fact, that he was being overly careful and would have sounded just as ridiculous to anyone listening in. Thankfully, they were still blessedly alone.

Cullen didn’t answer, and it seemed almost like he’d gotten stuck, gazing in front of him with slightly glazed eyes. Wanting to know how the story ended, Dorian nudged his friend’s shoulder with his own; the move had a bit too much gusto behind it, and he ended up sliding on the floor until his head rested on Cullen’s shoulder. It seemed like too much work to scoot back to his previous place to lift it, so he stayed there. Besides, the man smelled nice – like leather and metal, a hint of the polish he used on his sword, and something else that was all him. It was wonderful, really.

Either the nudge or the new weight on his shoulder started Cullen back up again, and he took a last swig from the bottle in his hand before letting it clatter to the floor. “Started thinkin’ ‘bout mages as people. There were little ones an’ old ones. So afraid… in their eyes. Fear. Didn’ like it. Realizzzed they were always ‘fraid in that Circle. Didn’ like that either. ‘S why things changed when I was Knight-C’mmander. I wanted- tha’s very distracting.” Looking down at Dorian with a mild frown, he shook his head. “Can’t think with that goin’ on.”

Maybe it was, but Dorian couldn’t find it in him to stop. Halfway through Cullen’s mulling over the past, he’d turned his head and began to nuzzle the Commander’s neck. His skin was warm, and the mage could catch his scent even better that way. In his fuzzy mind, all he really knew was that Cullen smelled and felt good. Turning his body more fully into the other man, he leaned harder into him, burying his face in the other’s neck. “Mmm. You smell delicious.” Part of him, a small and quiet part, insisted that this was not a good idea. He couldn’t remember why that was though, so that voice was quickly drowned out in a sea of want.

“Delicious?” The Commander asked, sounding as fuzzy as Dorian felt. “Not shure ‘bout that. Sylaera never said-“

Annoyed by the mention of the woman who got to share Cullen’s bed and didn’t appreciate that fact at all, Dorian acted without thinking. His lips parted and he went to deliver a little flick to teach the man a lesson; his tongue had a will of its own. It followed the strong line of Cullen’s neck all the way up to just under his ear, and Dorian could feel muscles working under the wet touch. Before he could think better of it, he closed his mouth around the Commander’s earlobe and sucked gently, tongue happily teasing and tasting. Emboldened by the soft moan he heard, he nipped the soft flesh before pulling away and pressing his mouth to Cullen’s ear to give a husky whisper. “As I thought… delicious.”

The other man was tense, hands clenched into fists in his lap. Suddenly, all at once, Dorian remembered why this was a bad idea. Cullen was not gay. Cullen was not gay and had given no indication that he dipped his wick into anything other than women. _Fuck._. He was a fool, and he’d probably just lost the only real friend he’d made here. Pulling away quickly, like Cullen was a hot brick, he fumbled for words in the silence. He couldn’t even look at the other man, and kept his eyes fixed on his own lap. “Cullen, I beg your forg-“

Fingers were in his hair before he realized the other man was reaching for him, tangling in the short dark locks. Fingers that tugged insistently, using their hold to force Dorian to meet Cullen’s gaze… and what he saw on the man’s face made his breath catch. There was that intensity again, that passion… and it didn’t seem sparked by anger this time. Cullen’s pupils were dilated, his breath coming a bit faster and heavier than usual; his lips were parted slightly, and Dorian felt a fluttering in his stomach as those lips came closer.

This couldn’t be happening; there was no way this was happening, even if they were both completely addled by alcohol.

Before he could stop the other man, joke about how it was time for both of them to crawl into bed – separate beds, mind – Cullen’s mouth met his in a hard, demanding kiss. Dorian didn’t even have time to process that fact before Cullen’s tongue surged forward, delving into his mouth. There, the Commander laid siege to Dorian’s senses until the mage was sure he was drowning in the other man. His scent filled Dorian’s nostrils and his hand was still buried in Dorian’s hair, tugging with just the right amount of force. And his tongue, Maker his _tongue_. It plundered forth, probing and seeking as if he meant to learn Dorian’s mouth and then master it; he was doing a damned fine job of it already, and the mage melted under the attention, giving a soft moan of pleasure.

Sensing the his friend wasn’t going to pull away, Cullen seemed to calm a little – while he still dominated the kiss, it wasn’t quite as hard, quite as needy. His tongue teasingly flicked across the inside of one cheek, then the other before it met with Dorian’s, curling around it artfully. He tasted of the various alcohols they’d been imbibing, Dorian thought, mind spinning dizzily. And while they’d been revolting coming out of the bottle, when overlaid with the flavor of _Cullen_ , the combined taste was absolutely divine. Time ceased to matter, and he had no idea how long the other man’s tongue danced with his own. It had been forever, but not long enough when the Commander began to pull away; Dorian heard himself whimper in a most embarrassing manner, his hand clutching at the other’s shirt. Cullen gave a chuckle against his lips that went straight to his already hardening cock, and he couldn’t help but try to press closer… which was when he finally registered the change in their position.

Somehow, while kissing Dorian senseless, the former Templar had turned to face him, then lowered him to the floor without him noticing. One hand was clutching Dorian’s hip with enough force to bruise while the other remained in his hair – no longer tugging, Cullen’s fingers instead ran almost idly through the black strands. He was hovering over the mage, their bodies not quite touching, only their hands and mouths connecting them. After that unmanly whimper, the Commander delivered a rather more chaste kiss, one that almost made Dorian growl… until Cullen began to nibble gently on his lower lip, loosening the grip on his hip to deliver soothing strokes instead.

Once he heard Dorian give a soft sigh and the mage’s body relaxed, he broke the kiss entirely, resting his forehead against Dorian’s. Both were gasping softly, breath mingling as Dorian brushed his nose over Cullen’s in an almost affectionate gesture. “’M not the only one who tastes delicious.” The slur was almost entirely gone, replaced by a rumbling purr that made Dorian’s bones melt and had him almost painfully hard. With thinking no longer part of the equation and instinct taking over, the black-haired man rolled his hips upward, nearly desperate to know if the blond was as effected as he. 

“ _Fuck_ …” The word was nearly a hiss, drawn forward involuntarily by the heavy feel of the Commander’s arousal against his thigh; his own was now pressed against Cullen’s leg as well. He heard the other man give an answering oath, and then the blonde shifted slightly – Dorian almost made a mess of his smalls when Cullen brought their erections together. His hand was gripping Dorian’s hip tightly again, the fingers once more tugging his hair, tipping Dorian’s head back. There was an urgency to his movements as he ground his cock against Dorian’s, like he couldn’t get enough – and the mage definitely agreed with him there, hips rotating in an answering movement.

Groaning low in his throat, Cullen fastened his mouth to Dorian’s flesh just above the collar bone, biting down with a growl before sucking hard. It would leave a mark, Dorian knew, but he couldn’t quite recall why that would be a bad thing. No, he was too busy moaning and arching up into Cullen’s body, needing more, needing him closer, needing both of their clothes to _go away_ …

And then reality intruded with a bang.

One that was quite literal – the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor just outside the room made both men freeze, eyes wide.

“By the stones of my Ancesters! Why do we have to move this all to the vault _tonight_?” Dorian recognized the voice as belonging to one of the dwarven workmen, and it was dangerously close to them.

“You know how the Inquisitor is.” Another dwarf, one who didn’t sound quite as frustrated as the first. “Vault’s finally done, and she wants all her trinkets there quickly. I mean no disrespect, mind you, but the woman is practically a magpie. She hoards everything, and she likes to look it all over as often as possible. So help me pick up this blasted chest so we can get it put away – only fifty more after this, and then we can sleep.”

He couldn’t hear the first dwarf’s muttered reply over the pounding of his heart in his ears, but he would wager it mostly amounted to a lot of swearing. Neither he nor Cullen had yet moved; hesitantly, he unclenched his fist, letting go of the blonde’s shirt to press his palm to his heart. The Commander’s heart raced as fast as his own, but the look on his face was completely indecipherable.

The voices of the dwarves moved away, but still, he and Cullen were frozen. Seconds, minutes, _years_ ticked by as sudden sobriety washed over the pair, forcing them to come to terms with what they’d been doing. Finally, expression still blank, Cullen released his hold on Dorian and eased himself away from the mage, until he was sitting on the stone floor once more. Cold and uncertain, Dorian sat up as well, clearing his throat and smoothing his mustache as he searched for words. Something flippant and light, something that would make this alright between them; he truly didn’t want to lose the man’s companionship. Not over this – not because of a drunken escapade when they were both lonely and hurting.

He couldn’t think of anything to say, however, and the silence stretched on and on, until Cullen finally cleared his throat. Studiously _not_ looking at Dorian, he started to gather up the empty bottles as he spoke. “I… I am sorry, Dorian. I don’t know what came over me. I… I should put these back and return to my tower.”

“What happened to smashing them?” Damnation, he sounded hurt and jealous, which was not going to help matters at all.

“I… That is… She…” Cullen stopped and finally looked at Dorian, his eyes a bit wider than normal. “She would notice, and there would be questions… I…” Swallowing hard, he looked away, shoulders hunched. “I would not have her learn of this, or that you aided me in the smashing. It is… better if I return them.”

“I see.” Trying very hard to mask his feelings without turning nasty, Dorian helped in the effort, locating a few bottles that had rolled under the desk. “Then once the bottles are returned, this never happened.” If it wasn’t for the hard edge to his voice, the sentence would have sounded sensible and been the best way to start mending the damage.

As it was, Dorian was definitely showing his hand.

“Dorian I did not mean… I would not lose…” The Commander’s flustered attempt at speech helped soothe some of the hurt; he was adorable, and very much out of his element. “You are important to me; our friendship… means a great deal.” Ah, friendship. With that, Cullen was very clearly drawing his boundaries. “I would not lose that. I…”

“It’s alright, I understand.” Swallowing the anger that rose from embarrassment, Dorian flashed him a winning smile. “I apologize for being so fabulous and for not warning you that drunk men throw themselves at me constantly.” Striking a pose and smoothing his mustache again, he did his best to smirk. “It is a burden I accept gracefully enough, so think nothing of it, Cullen. When the morning breaks and the last of the alcohol is out of your system, you’ll no longer be under my wicked spell, I promise you.”

The teasing seemed to make Cullen feel better, for the tension drained from his frame, and he was able to smile back. “Thank you, Dorian. Here, if you will hand those bottles over-“

“I could help put them away, you know.”

“Do you know the order they go in? She’s very particular with her collections.”

“I must confess to ignorance in this matter. Here you are – now go get rid of the evidence of your naughty attempt at vengeance.” 

Cullen flushed deeply, and Dorian cursed himself for his choice of words… but he also let them stand. Loading the Commander up with the bottles he’d found, he stepped back and nodded. There. Now Cullen could put them back, and everything would be back to the way it was before the blond had stumbled into his sanctuary. They wouldn’t speak of this night, and they would resume their friendship, and play chess when the Inquisitor wasn’t leading Cullen around by his cock.

“Thank you, Dorian.” Cullen gave the slightest bow and headed for the door, but paused before leaving entirely. When he looked over his shoulder, he didn’t quite look at Dorian, and he seemed nervous again. “I… if…” Pausing, the blond took a deep breath and soldiered forward. “If tomorrow finds Bull and Sylaera otherwise occupied… I would very much like to spend the time in your company again. I will meet you here if that is the case?”

Absolutely stumped, Dorian stared and blinked several times before clearing his throat. “If that’s what you want, I shall happily oblige. I might be able to manage getting a chessboard here, if you’d like.”

“That sounds pleasant. I will bring something to drink that tastes better than… whatever it was we ingested tonight.”

“Probably a good idea – I’m not sure how either of us managed not to vomit. I will see you tomorrow night, Cullen. If Bull and the Inquisitor are engaged elsewhere, of course.”

“Of course. … Good night, Dorian.”

“Good night, Commander.” Watching as Cullen left, Dorian ran a hand through his hair, wondering what exactly they were doing. Did Cullen want… more? Was that why he wanted to come back? No, no; they were just two men who understood each other very well. If he could just keep his passionate Tevinter inclinations in check, they would simply play chess and commiserate, and their friendship would be harmed no further.

As his hand drifted down to his neck, brushing over the mark Cullen had left on his skin, Dorian really thought about Bull for the first time since the encounter. The Qunari would notice, and it would undermine all his attempts to gain Bull’s loyalty and undivided attention… and part of him didn’t care.

“Fuck.”


	2. Ghost of a Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his decision to try and forget his brief encounter with Cullen, Dorian finds it harder to do than he'd imagined. One stolen kiss may be enough to change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I can't really believe how many people have already read this and given kudos or commented. XD Thank you all so much!
> 
> This is just a little thing since I probably won't be able to write anything else today; I work with children who are between 11 and 18, and they drain my energy drier than the Sahara most Saturdays. 
> 
> Also, it will get smuttier and more explicit, honest. Li'l old virgin me just has limited practical experience, so I get nervous posting smut for other people to read. xD I need hours to agonize and contemplate and work myself up into a panic, and I didn't have that this morning.
> 
> Again, thanks for reading! <3

Whether it was cowardice or anger that had Dorian hiding from Bull the next day he would be hard pressed to say. Whichever it was, it caused him to skip breakfast – which they usually shared – and avoid both tavern and training yards. Neither was difficult, really, as he usually _only_ went to both in order to see the great ox. Even his practices with Lysette, who was a dear girl once one got passed her prickly exterior, took place in a private location. He wasn’t exactly trying to hide the fact that once a week he let a Templar use Smite on him to her heart’s content, but he didn’t want anyone to know how well he was learning to resist a Templar’s abilities. Without a compelling reason to visit the tavern to socialize or the training yards to watch people hit each other with swords, he simply didn’t.

And if he ducked down an empty corridor when he heard Bull’s unmistakable voice approaching his position, that was entirely his own business.

He couldn’t avoid the Qunari forever, of course, and he didn’t even really want to. He’d just wanted the morning and part of the afternoon to himself, to work in peace without dealing with the romantic snare he found himself in. With no one distracting him, he was able to get quite a bit done, sorting through tomes and devising a system of organization that would suit the new library. By the time he left his little sanctuary in the early afternoon, he was feeling very accomplished and rather confused. Part of that time had been dedicated to getting a chessboard set up, which meant Cullen invaded his thoughts. Though Dorian wrestled with himself to get that absurdly wonderful kiss out of his mind, he was less than successful; only forcing himself to remember Bull produced any kind of result.

But he wasn’t thinking of either of them, he reminded himself as he climbed the stairs to his old sanctuary. Not when Fiona had sent him a message that promised she’d located several books of interest. While most of the apprentices and Enchanters he’d met from the Circles were… rough around the edges, the former Grand Enchanter was sharper and more canny. How Alexius had managed to trick her, he wasn’t sure – he supposed desperation tainted even the best and brightest. If she said she’d unearthed tomes that belonged in his Arcane Library, they would be worth the climb, he was sure.

It was while he was thumbing through one of the tomes, delighted by the information it held, that Bull finally found him. At first, the Qunari said nothing; Dorian wasn’t even aware he’d approached until the lummox grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder. “My book! Bull, you brainless brute, you made me drop it. Put me down immediately so I can get it, or I shall be forced into drastic action!”

“Fiona. Get the book.”

The wide-eyed mage scurried to obey, and Dorian was glad that the tome would be properly taken care of. Fiona was almost as careful as he with the written word. He was less pleased with his current position, being carted down the stairs by his irritating lover. “Bull, if you don’t put me down this instant- Bull!” he yelped, interrupting himself when the Qunari’s free hand delivered a resounding smack to his bottom. Red-faced, keenly aware of all the eyes on them, Dorian desisted in his protests. Usually, this sort of display was something he enjoyed; it was a claiming, a declaration that the two were together. Even while protesting and berating Bull on his lack of discretion, he secretly loved every obvious and rough gesture. Just then, however, he was _not_ happy.

Especially not when he knew that Bull was carting him back to his room for a rousing afternoon of debauchery. He was still angry with his lover for the day before, and also very much aware of the love bite Cullen had left on his neck. There was no way to know how Bull would react, not when Dorian had never come so close to straying since they’d begun their relationship. If the Qunari got angry, however, he resolved to throw every instance of infidelity he knew about back in his face, because being petty and vindictive were Tevinter national pastimes.

Being carried through Skyhold like a sack of potatoes was bad enough; passing Cullen was very high on his list of things he didn’t want to happen. Because of that, of course it did. Catching sight of the open-mouthed Commander after Bull strode past him was… an experience. The poor man was so flustered he dropped the papers he was holding, sending his subordinate scurrying after the loose sheets, hoping to grab them before the wind did. Dorian’s blush deepened, and he couldn’t quite meet the other man’s eye; the pang of regret he felt was ridiculous, because its origin was Cullen. He didn’t feel badly for their little indiscretion, oh no. He felt badly that the blond likely knew that he and Bull were headed off to fuck.

When exactly had he turned into such a fool?

Shortly after the confusing run-in, they reached Bull’s quarters. Still not saying a word directly to him, he dumped Dorian unceremoniously on the bed, then waited for the mage to sort himself out. Once Dorian was sitting upright, hair mussed and clothes out of order, he eased onto the bed next to him, then dragged the unresisting Dorian into his lap. “Kadan.” He breathed into Dorian’s ear, making the dark-haired man struggle to suppress a snort. How could the Qunari call him that, when he made himself so freely available to everyone else in the bloody keep? “You’ve been avoiding me all day. If you were trying to make me hungry for you, I gotta say - mission accomplished.” When his talented tongue curled around Dorian’s earlobe, he melted… and hated himself for it just a little bit.

Bull worked his way down the mage’s neck, nibbling and sucking and licking; Dorian forgot about hating himself and let himself get lost in the Qunari’s touch instead. After being lovers for a few months, Bull knew exactly where and how to touch the other man. Maker’s mercy, the Ben-Hassrath had been able to read him after the first encounter. Without even really touching him, without even a kiss hello, he had Dorian panting and squirming in his lap, cock growing hard. Knowing the dance as well as Bull, he was surprised when the Qunari halted abruptly and pulled back.

“I don’t remember leaving that, Kadan.” Bull’s voice was light, but there was a slight edge that Dorian found rather humorous, all things considered. “So you didn’t want to join me and Asher, but found your own entertainment instead?”

“Someone needed what I could offer.” Dorian answered simply, voice rather snide. With the Qunari pretending not to be irritated, he had to do the same; on the surface, if one ignored the tone of the conversation, it seemed light and fairly civil. When one paid closer attention, however, the near-hostility was hard to miss.

“I see. I’m glad you could give it to them then. It’s just a pity you walked out of your room last night. I thought you’d like that servant. Seemed to be your type; it was a surprise.”

“For future reference, keep your ‘surprises’ out of my bed.”

“Is _that_ why you’re angry?” Bull’s chuckle made Dorian want to deck him; since his lover could break him in half with only the slightest bit of effort, he refrained. Instead, he scowled darkly, refusing to confirm or deny – the ox could make of that what he liked. It was only part of the reason, but talking about the rest of it… it would only end in an argument and heartache. “I apologize, Kadan. I should have known to ask.” Strong, thick fingers took hold of Dorian’s chin, tipping his head back until they were gazing into each other’s eyes. “From now on, I will.” When they kissed, Dorian could almost forgive the other; Bull knew exactly what to give him. There wasn’t the desperate, manic neediness of Cullen’s kiss – and part of him thought there was something inherently wrong with that. Instead, Bull kissed him like he knew Dorian would never walk away, like they had all the time in the world… like Dorian would always be there, waiting, even when the Qunari strayed. 

Oh, it was still pleasant, of course – Bull nibbled and suckled on his lower lip, drawing forth a deep moan, before lightly, teasingly pushing his tongue forward to delve briefly into Dorian’s mouth. When his tongue went to give chase, Bull managed to pull it forth into his mouth, sucking the appendage and giving a rumble of pleasure at Dorian’s taste, his responsiveness. After all, the mage was squirming in his lap again, trying to find that perfect perch that would let Bull’s hard length press against his bottom. When he found it, both men groaned in pleasure, and Dorian immediately began rocking his hips.

Breaking the kiss, Bull put his forehead against Dorian’s, and the black-haired man was reminded suddenly, strongly and painfully of Cullen. Just like last night, he found himself panting and hard and _wanting_ ; Bull was still breathing evenly, and the only way to know he was affected at all was the hard cock Dorian was grinding against. It wasn’t fair… it wasn’t fair to compare the two men, and it wasn’t fair that he suddenly found his lover so lacking. Usually, this was the only time their relationship made complete sense to him; every bit of hurt and jealousy faded away, leaving only him and Bull and their connection. Now a third, spectral member was in Bull’s bed with them, and Dorian was the only one who knew it.

“I’m glad, Kadan, that you found a way to pass the time.” Large hands smoothed down Dorian’s back, grabbing hold of his ass and forcing him into stillness. “You shouldn’t wait for me to get what you need. You know I don’t mind if-“ Wanting to shut him up, to make him _stop_ making it okay for both of them to seek pleasure elsewhere, Dorian found Bull’s mouth with his own, wrapping his arms tightly around the Qunari’s neck. When Bull chuckled at his eagerness, it didn’t melt him like Cullen’s had; his hands felt too big, and the scent that usually made him feel drugged and eager was only mildly pleasant.

When Bull pushed his hips up, cock twitching insistently through the layers of their clothes, Dorian groaned into the kiss and rotated his hips faster, harder… but he could still _think_. He wasn’t losing himself in the Qunari, wasn’t offering up the full of his heart along with his body. He wasn’t making love – he was having sex. Sex that had everything to do with satisfying the physical, and little to do with anything else. It was like being back in Tevinter again; he’d been wrong to think their relationship entirely that way before. Perhaps it was one-sided, but there had been real love, real commitment… Dorian had unabashedly gifted Bull with his affection and loyalty, adding another dimension to base carnality.

But now... now it was just sex.

Maybe when he’d forgotten the feel of Cullen’s kiss, he would feel that way again, he reasoned as Bull began to divest him of his clothing. Maybe when the bruise on his neck had faded, he would belong to the Qunari again. Maybe if he could go a few days without finding his lover fucking someone else, he would fall completely in love again; a relapse of the heart.

And when Bull laid him down one his back, holding his hand out and waiting for Dorian to use a grease spell, the mage prayed that Cullen’s ghost wouldn’t be in bed with them forever.


	3. Normal Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian does his best to convince himself that there is nothing between himself and Cullen but friendship; though talented at self-deception, it's harder than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter chapter. I must confess I'm still not entirely sure where I'm going with this, but I do intend to see it through to the finish.
> 
> Thank you all so very much for reading. <3 I didn't really expect to get many hits at all; it's nice to see otherwise. That being said, I do like critiques and feedback, so... feel free to leave such things.
> 
> Again, thanks!

On a normal day, Dorian didn’t come into contact with Cullen unless he made it a point to seek him out. The man was busy, after all, what with all those forces to marshal and people to order about. He had his own duties as well – none of them took him anywhere close to where the Commander did his business. That all meant that they almost never met by coincidence; that was how he knew they actually were friends. They weren’t simply thrown together all the time – they _chose_ each other’s company. And so, on a normal day, he would have been satisfied by the earlier brief and very embarrassing glance they’d exchanged. Even that was more than what could usually be expected.

Why he bothered to ‘expect’ anything anymore was an utter mystery.

As if fate were conspiring toward some unknown goal, he ran into the Commander as evening came to Skyhold. Not literally, but only because Cullen was quick on his feet and managed to step out of the way just in time. At first, he began to stutter a rather bland apology while Dorian stared…. And then he realized who had nearly bowled him over. Silence fell as a staring contest began – the mage wasn’t sure of the stakes, but losing was simply not his style. So he waited, not looking away from Cullen but not speaking either. After a long moment, the blond was the one to look down, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand; the left, of course, was resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Ah… Dorian. I apologize – my mind was… elsewhere. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“You didn’t _realize_? You have cut me to the core, Commander. I am a proud, noble scion of the House of Pavus, and my incredible, unmistakable good looks are second only to my magical abilities. How dare you not realize my identity right away? In Tevinter, this would be a dueling offense.”

Humor had been the right way to go – Cullen’s mouth quirked up into a little smile, the scar on his lip pulling upward. “I do beg your forgiveness. I was simply blinded by your splendor and could not make out your features. From that alone I should have known it was you.”

“Better! Yes, you _are_ getting better at this game. Soon I shall have to change the rules.”

“That’s rather unfair, don’t you think?”

“Alas, life is unfair, and you always beat me at chess. I must have something, Cullen. I am a delicate Tevinter flower.” The blond snorted in an attempt to hide his laughter, and Dorian couldn’t help but grin at him. They were fine… it was silly of him to be so concerned about the night before. All the worrying and pondering; it wasn’t because of his friend. No, he was simply unhappy with Bull. The bit of drunken comfort he’d taken had just forced him to fully recognize that. He was _not_ interested in the Commander that way. “So, what brings you down this way? We’re almost to my library – this set of corridors is rather out of the way of almost anywhere else.”

Suddenly, Cullen looked nervous and evasive. He rubbed his neck again, then ran his fingers through his hair. Dorian tried very hard not to think about how wonderful those fingers had felt tangled in his own locks… he succeeded only because he was bolstered by his previous realization. Pulling his attention away from the blasted man’s _hands_ and his _hair_ , Dorian took in the rest of the package… and frowned.

“Why… you’re al dusty. And are those _cobwebs_ on your sleeves and trousers? Have you been mucking about down here for long? Oh my my my. Don’t tell me the fearless, dauntless Templar-“

“Former.” Cullen interjected, sounding embarrassed. Indeed, color was rising to his cheeks and he didn’t seem able to look Dorian in the eye.

“Did he get _lost_?” Oh, that was delightful if it was true. He would be able to tease the man for months about this; the Commander prided himself on his sense of direction. Boasted of it often too during their games. If he’d gotten lost in _Skyhold_ … simply delicious.

The accusation had his friend looking startled at first, but then a look of relief flashed across his face. That intrigued Dorian enough that he quirked one brow in a question. Almost quicker than his eye could follow, however, the expression changed into one of sheepish amusement as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes. I… got lost. That’s it exactly. I should not have bragged so about my ability to, ah, find my way about no matter where I, ah, find myself. Thankfully I stumbled upon that silly vault, and I knew your library and the…” Here he faltered even more, eyes meeting Dorian’s briefly before falling again. “The, ah… the bottles. So from there I could find my way. I’m headed to the war room, you see. One flight of stairs and a brief walk through Josephine’s office and I shall be there. So I didn’t _really_ get lost. I simply… got turned around. Yes. I found myself eventually. Due to that, you should temper the urge to tease me.”

It was almost believable… but there was something that had Dorian’s mustache twitching. All was not completely right in the tale, and he would ferret it out one way or another. If he teased and prodded enough, Cullen would surely forget himself and tell him the truth. “I see, I see. Well, I shall do my best, but I can make no promises. You see, I live to tease, and you are one of my favorite subjects.” Pretending to think it over, he also pretended not to see the way Cullen rolled his eyes. “However… I suppose I can grant you a brief reprieve. Should we meet again tonight, all bets are off. Deal?”

“Deal, since I have no other choice. Will you at least keep my, ah, misfortune from others? It will not do if I become the laughingstock of the Inquisition, Dorian.”

“Hmm... I suppose that’s true. Very well, I shall keep my yap shut; I am the very soul of discretion. In return, I will bring this up as often as possible while in your company for the forseable future. Except for right now, of course, during your reprieve. I shall not mention at all the fact that you got lost inside a hold you’ve been living in for months now. No, the words shall not pass my lips, because it must be _very_ embarrassing for you. So I shan’t bring it up even a lit-“

“Yes, Dorian.” Cullen’s voice was full of laughter, that scar lifting up again as he smiled. “Thank you for not constantly reminding me of my failures at this moment. I owe you a great debt, one I will not forget to repay.”

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots. I believe even my mustache is trembling with fear.” 

“As it should be. Perhaps I should begin payment there… a razor would help calm your mustache considerably.”

“Commander, there are many things in this world I am willing to joke about. But a gentleman’s facial hair is hitting entirely below the belt. In fact, I would almost prefer you to _actually_ hit below the belt. A man’s mustache is sacred, you southern barbarian.”

“Whatever you say, Dorian.” That was why Dorian enjoyed their little chats; Cullen did his best to keep up with sarcastic replies, but when he had nothing, he let the mage ramble with an indulgent smile on his lips. Most people were after him to be quiet – the Commander let him be as dramatic as he pleased.

“Quite right. I’m glad you understand the order of things. Perhaps I shall give you a cookie later to reward your grasp of the situation.”

“Dorian-“

“Oh, very well. I shall desist for the moment. I’m sure you have very important Commander-ing to do.”

“Yes. I… I believe Sylaera… the Inquisitor… I think she plans to depart tonight on an errand. Vivienne cornered her earlier, and… well…”

“And the bitch always gets her way.” The two men sighed in concert; the exasperation was coupled with respect, at least on Dorian’s end. The woman knew how to get what she wanted, and it was hard to fault her for that. It made her absolutely unbearable for more than five seconds, but still. She got what she wanted. “Well. If it’s for the First Enchanter, I probably won’t have to go.”

“And she… she almost always takes Iron Bull…”

“That she does.”

“If that is the case, then-“

“Then I shall see you tonight. Of course. We agreed last night, remember? Or did the information get… lost inside your head?”

“Dorian…” This time the laugh came as part of a groan, but he didn’t seem too put out by the little tease. “Tonight then. If Sylaera takes Iron Bull. If not, I of course understand that you’ll want to spend it with him.”

“That’s… well. The Inquisitor almost never leaves him behind. So I believe we will be seeing each other. Now, if the coast is clear…” Dorian looked over his shoulder, pretending to check for imaginary spectators. “You can make your escape before anyone else knows you got-“ Cullen cleared his throat meaningfully, and the mage smirked. “Turned around, Commander, my goodness. I am a man of my word. Then, once you know you won’t be discovered, you can clean yourself up a bit – dispose of the last of the evidence.”

“Thank you. You are too kind, as always.”

“But of course. We are friends, after all.”

“Yes. Friends.”

It was an odd response, one that Dorian couldn’t quite interpret… not that he was given much of a chance. As he looked over his shoulder again, hiding his uncertainty with another sweep of the terrain, Cullen stepped forward. Not around the other man, oh no – he stepped _into_ him, invading his space until they were only a few inches apart. The blond seemed memorized by something, his eyes fixed on Dorian’s… ah, yes. The love bite he’d left on Dorian’s skin with his talented mouth; it had caught his attention, perhaps revealed when the mage had turned his head. Or had their conversation reminded him? Either way, he appeared fascinated, gaze darkening and narrowing in. Dorian’s breath caught, and he didn’t know if he wanted to back away or step forward and capture Cullen’s lips or if he wanted to let the man do whatever he wanted or if he wanted to _run_ so this strange thing between them didn’t ruin everything else.

Before he could make the decision, Cullen’s left hand pulled away from his sword, then lifted. Warm, calloused fingers curled around Dorian’s neck. He bit back a moan, but couldn’t quite stifle it entirely. There was that fucking chuckle again, the one that made his knees feel weak and turned off his ability to think. The blond man rubbed his thumb over the mark, gaze never leaving it as he stroked. Shamefully, Dorian was already at half mast, as it were, leaning into the touch and… and this was a very, very bad idea.

Still, he wasn’t the one to pull away. No, it was the Commander who let go with a sigh, tearing his gaze away with seeming reluctance to look down the hallway. “I really must be off to the war room. I will see you tonight Dorian. I mean, if Iron Bull goes with Sylaera.”

For a moment, Dorian struggled to find words, adrift in that horrible sea of want again. If he was only angry at Bull, Cullen wouldn’t make him feel this way; he wouldn’t want… “Don’t forget the wine, Commander, or you’ll find proclamations posted all over Skyhold decrying your sense of direction.”

“It is a deal then. Who knows… if I get drunk you may be able to win a game.”

“Ha! Yes, I will be changing the rules soon. You’ve gotten too good at this. Now stop bothering me and go do your important work.”

“Important… I wonder. I hope to see you later, Dorian. Farewell.”

“Until then, Cullen.” Dorian turned to watch his friend leave, feeling a bit… well a bit poleaxed to be honest. This was all so strange; if he didn’t know the Fade so well, he’d be sure he was dreaming. A dream he wasn’t quite sure if he was enjoying or not. Alas, it was all real, so he’d just have to fumble through it and hope for the best.

It was almost his usual time to fetch dinner from the kitchens, but he found he wasn’t very hungry. Startling new attractions that came from almost nowhere could wreak havoc on a man’s appetite. Besides, he’d need to find Bull and see if the big idiot was indeed leaving with the Inquisitor. He’d just drop by his library and fetch the book Fiona had asked to see; he could drop it off after speaking with his lover. 

On a normal day, Dorian expected his library to be exactly as he left it. Few people were aware it even existed; he and Cullen were, of course. The Inquisitor had poked her head in the door long enough to declare herself uninterested, and he was sure Leliana knew about it since she knew every other bloody thing. No one poked about in the place but him – he’d refused to guide Fiona or any of the other interested Enchanters there until he had the place all fixed up. So when he walked into it that day, he expected it to look the way it had when he’d left several hours ago. Mostly empty shelves, a pile of papers on the desk along with the book he couldn’t read; a ghostly light he related to veilfire, piles of books strewn about the floor, and enough dust to choke Corypheus’ false Archdemon.

But then, expecting anything to be as it usually was had already proved futile.

When he walked into his sanctuary, he stopped in his tracks, eyes going wide. It was clean. Completely and utterly free of dust and cobwebs, with several lit candelabras giving off a warmer, cozier light than the ghostly green. The piles of books had been organized, his papers put into a neat stack. The chessboard he’d brought earlier had been moved to where more light shone on it, and there were plump, comfortable cushions on his chairs. 

“Why you sly dog you.” Dorian murmured, hands on his hips as he took in the much-changed state of his sanctuary. “You weren’t lost at all.”


	4. Knowing the Stakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is used to losing games, and it's taught him not to gamble anything he can't afford to lose; Cullen weakens that resolve. Together, they need to decide if the stakes are worth the risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly never know what's going to end up happening when I sit down to write these two. XD I start out with a plan, but it always morphs as I go. I hope it never ends up in a weird, horrible place. 
> 
> In a related note, when I read through what I have to pick up the thread of the story again, I notice little mistakes that drive me nuts that I never see the first time I post, no matter how many times I preview and edit. I don't suppose anyone knows someone who would be willing to beta, or who would be interested themselves? It'd be nice to have someone catch some of the stuff I don't see, and who can tell me if the story goes off the rails. XD
> 
> Also, whenever I think, write, or read about Cullen smirking, all I can see in my head is that smirk at the end of his kiss cutscene. That fucking smirk. Oh my god. I melt every time; best expression ever, in my opinion. I watched it like six times on youtube while I worked on this chapter, because that apparently is my process? I dunno. Maybe I'm strange. Dorian's exaggerated vanity is also one of my favorite things about him. <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“I thought you were going to bring something _better_ than what we drank last night.”

“Do you have a problem with the vintage, Dorian?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s perfectly fine. We killed most of our taste buds last night, after all. Shan’t notice a thing wrong with it.”

“Well if you don’t want to drink it-“

“I said no such thing, Commander, so keep your hands to yourself.”

Cullen laughed and pulled his hands back from the bottle of wine, holding them in the air. “Alright, then stop complaining. Will you pour while I ready the board?”

“Sounds fair, I suppose.” Dorian agreed, turning toward his desk. Part of him was glad that the Inquisitor had indeed left Skyhold and taken Bull with her, along with Varric and Vivienne. Apparently the errand was urgent, and the leader of the so-called ‘last loyal mages in Thedas’ had insisted the party leave immediately, not even waiting for the sun to light the sky again. They’d be gone at least a week, depending on how difficult it was to procure… whatever Vivienne wanted. Dorian wondered if – hoped? – meeting in his library at night would become a habit during that time. It was always nice to see his friend this way, after he’d shucked that ridiculous fur and his armor, donning simpler clothes that made him far more approachable.

For a time, as Dorian went for his corkscrew and Cullen set up the chess pieces, a comfortable silence fell between them. That quickly began to bother the mage, however. Chatter and banter and teasing was for friends and even acquaintances; silence was for people who were significantly less… or significantly more. Since their silence was not born of hostility, it was born of _intimacy_ , and he wasn’t sure that could be allowed. So he did what he did best – he began to fill the silence.

“You know, the oddest thing happened today.” As he spoke, he opened the bottle of wine and carefully poured out two glasses. “After our little chat in the hall – you know, after you ‘found’ yourself and weren’t lost anymore – I came back here.” Glancing at Cullen, he was rather pleased at the way his shoulders had hitched up and his head had ducked down. If the clatter he’d heard was any indication, the blond had managed to knock over a few of the game pieces as well. The man was patently nervous and embarrassed, and Dorian delighted in it.

“For a moment, I thought _I_ had gotten lost and stumbled into the wrong room. I’m sure you’re under the impression that I cleaned this place for your benefit, especially as it looks so spectacular-“

“Dorian-“

“But men of my extraordinary magnificence rarely clean.” Dorian continued, talking a bit louder to override Cullen’s attempt to interject. “We have other, far more important matters to attend to. No, the cleaning was done by some mysterious do-gooder. I should like to think whoever it was – they did an excellent job.”

When he went to stand at Cullen’s side, offering him one of the gasses, his friend was blushing fiercely. Perhaps he should have stopped at that; the blond would know he was grateful, and he could go on pretending to tease him about getting lost. That would have been most unsatisfying, however. “Yes, I _should_ like to thank whoever it was, except for one thing.” Cullen looked over, his eyes narrowed now even as the tips of his ears turned pink. “You see, I had a wonderful, priceless little statue set up on the corner of my desk. My mother gave it to me before my father sent me off to languish in Minrathous. It’s the only thing I really kept from home, you see. She was a dear woman, if a bit miserable and spiteful. Anyway, the statue is gone. I can only assume my mystery benefactor accidently broke it or perhaps even stole i-“

“I did no such thing!”

Realizing a beat later that he’d betrayed himself, Cullen hitched his shoulders up high enough that his neck practically disappeared. Glowering, he lifted his glass and took a large swallow of his wine and turned his back on Dorian, who was now laughing.

“I was right! It was you. Shame, Commander, for allowing me to think you’d gotten lost. I should have been thanking you and instead I teased you. I mean, I would have teased you anyway, but I’d have thanked you first. You did a marvelous job.” Reaching out, he set his free hand on Cullen’s shoulder; for a moment, both went even tighter and tenser, and then they relaxed. The man glanced over his shoulder, still blushing, a sheepish look on his face. After a moment, a hesitant smile lifted his lips, and he gave a small nod.

“I am… glad that you are happy with the result. I worried that I was overstepping my bounds, but…” He stopped and cleared his throat, looking away for a moment. Dorian _should_ have removed his hand; instead, he gave Cullen’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, noticing as he did that he still felt tense, even if he didn’t look it. Beyond all reason, once that was done, he pressed his thumb into the muscles there and rubbed it in small circles, hoping to relieve some of the stress. 

Perhaps the Inquisitor was the one who was going to save the world, but Cullen was the one who carried _her_ , more often than not. While she led her merry little band on errands, he maneuvered troops and plotted strategies; where she inspired the masses, he was the one to lead them. No wonder the man was so stiff all the time – even when ‘relaxed’, his muscles were knotted with tension from carrying the load.

He was gratified that even that small, limited massage produced results; Cullen went a little limper, and a soft sigh escaped his lips. “That feels… well. Perhaps we ought to play for stakes? The winner gets a massage from the loser.”

Instantly Dorian stopped and pulled his hand away, scowling at the blond in his turn. “You only say that because you always win!”

“If you weren’t so busy concentrating on how you might cheat, you would see ways to best me fairly.”

“That is preposterous. You’re far better than me – I could never win through skill alone.” With another, he might have made a joke about blood magic; with Cullen, he never did. Though he didn’t know the whole story, he did know the former Templar had been through an ordeal that revolved around the practice. “I _have_ to cheat, and you should be a good enough sport that you don’t point it out. Especially since I can’t win even when I do arrange matters more to my benefit.”

“Then I look forward to my massage.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You seem to suffer me quite well.”

“A rule change is most definitely in order. Once you are out of my hair for the night and I can think properly, I shall outline the new ones and send them to that drafty little tower of yours. I shall take black as well - _you_ may play white for once.” With all the high dudgeon of an Orlesian noble who’d been served the wrong wine – which he, as a matter of fact, had been – Dorian swept past his friend and sat in the proper chair, chin lifted high. “If you please, Commander. This time, my victory shall be resounding, and I will allow you to rub my feet. An honor, you know, touching the toes of a son of House Parvus. I hope you will be properly grateful.”

“I’m sure I will be, on the day you finally win. Tonight, however, will find you rubbing my shoulders.” Cullen grinned at him – that open, boyish grin that had set his heart fluttering the first time he’d seen it. Really, those flutters had never stopped; he’d simply stopped acknowledging them. Which he should be doing now, because so far their get-together had been so easy, so… so _right_. They were good as friends, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose that – and perhaps Bull in the bargain.

“Your move, if you please. If you feel the need to let me win after the insult you’ve dealt me, I would understand and accept the gesture.”

“Drink your wine, Dorian.”

“Don’t boss me, Commander.”

Still, he did in fact drink the wine, and he would sooner die than admit it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Maker, he was turning into one of _them_. Soon he’d be dressing like a southern barbarian, eating with first the wrong fork and then with his hands as he forgot his manners entirely… it hardly bore thinking about.

Especially since he needed all his attention focused on the game at hand. He held no illusion of winning, but he did try to keep from embarrassing himself too badly. Usually, his efforts were for naught, but he didn’t mind, because it was all in good fun. Cullen looked away and pretended not to notice his efforts to cheat, and he was very dramatic in his boasting that he would best the blond. A good time was always had by all involved, and adding wine into the mix had been an inspired idea.

Two glasses each into the game, Cullen leaned in to study the board, a thoughtful frown on his face. That caused one of his legs to shift, and it brushed against Dorian’s; it happened often enough, and the touches were usually brief and easily forgotten. There was never a need to apologize and it never got awkward; it was simply part of playing a game that kept the contenders in such tight quarters. Feet scuffled, people fidgeted, and a light touch every now and again was to be expected.

This time, however, Cullen left his leg there when he leaned back, a smug expression in his eyes. “I’ll have you soon, you know. Would you like to surrender now and save your dignity?”

Dorian nearly choked on his wine, his heart speeding up in his chest. With all that had happened lately, all that he’d been thinking and feeling, those innocent words took on quite a different meaning in his mind. Except… Cullen’s leg was still lightly touching his; perhaps the words weren’t entirely innocent after all. “You merely think you have the upper hand, Commander. You’ve fallen for my dastardly scheme, and when I snap shut the trap, you’ll be left wondering how you ever thought you could best me.”

They weren’t drunk, not even close – so why was Cullen’s leg still there? Swallowing hard, trying to ignore the feel and telling himself the blond was just trying to throw off his game, Dorian made his move. On the board, of course, because there were no moves to be made on Cullen, because they were friends and not anything more and why hadn’t the Commander moved his blasted leg? For that matter, why hadn’t he pulled his own away?

Within a few moments, it felt natural enough that Dorian didn’t think of it anymore. He hadn’t forgotten it by any stretch of the imagination; he could feel the other man’s warmth through their trousers, and the subtle weight was almost comforting. It simply didn’t consume him, and for a while he could play without it affecting his cognitive abilities. As time passed, however, the subtle touch became more; both of them were leaning their leg into the other, staying connected no matter how they shifted in their seats. Every motion the blond made, however small, reminded him of that connection. That remembering, that knowing, sent a thrill through Dorian and caused his heart and stomach to flutter. Once, as Cullen was pondering his next move, the mage deliberately rubbed his leg against the other man’s, trying to figure out if the Commander realized what was going on. Instantly, he heard his friend’s breath hitched, and his hand clenched and unclenched around the piece he was holding.

Oh yes, Cullen definitely knew they were touching, and he still hadn’t pulled his leg away.

The implication turned Dorian’s mouth dry as stone, and he quickly took a swallow of wine, then another. Heat rose to his cheeks, but he hoped he wasn’t blushing badly enough for the other to notice.

The game marched on, taking time because of Dorian’s long pauses before each move – often filled with theatrics – more than any real tension over who would win. He wasn’t entirely sure who’d made the first move, as he’d been busy railing against the unfairness of being forced to play the black pieces and losing the chance to go first, but his leg had ended up hooked around Cullen’s… and Cullen’s other leg was leaning in from the opposite side, trapping him there. His body was absolutely interested now, and he hoped that he could get himself _dis_ interested before he hardened enough for it to be noticeable when he stood.

Was Cullen getting hard as well?

No, no, no – naughty Dorian, he scolded himself, looking at the board without seeing it. This was… he didn’t know what this was, but it was hardly the time to be thinking such things. It was inappropriate, and – more importantly – it wasn’t helping him calm his cock down at all.

“Dorian? It’s your move, you know.” When the blond said his name, he lightly squeezed the mage’s leg with his own, drawing his gaze to honey brown eyes. There was none of that wild, unbridled passion in them… but there was a warmth, a smoldering heat that was usually absent. “Or have you been struck dumb by the realization that there are only two rounds between you and defeat?”

“I believe I could stretch it into three.”

“No, you can’t.”

“What if I move this piece… over here?” He asked, demonstrating a move that was entirely illegal.

“That’s against the rules, and it still wouldn’t help you extend the match. If you’d like to move it there anyway, I will let you.”

Where had his stammering, adorable, shy Commander gone? Yes, he often got a bit cockier –terrible word choice! – during their matches, but this… this was new. New and unsettling, partly because he was enjoying it immensely. All-paws-puppy Cullen was fun to tease and flirt harmlessly with; confident, cocky, _sexy_ Cullen might prove impossible to resist. He still didn’t know what the blond wanted – Maker’s mercy, he didn’t even know what _he_ wanted – and there was no way this could end well. They needed to stop and have a discussion and figure out how to salvage the situation and their friendship. That would be the mature, reasonable thing to do.

Instead, Dorian plunked his piece down in the rule-forbidden-Cullen-approved spot and folded his arms over his chest. “If I can stretch this out for three rounds-“

“You can’t, unless I let you do something wildly, absurdly against the rules.”

“If I manage it anyway, you forfeit your massage and must rub my feet.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Hmph.”

Two moves by the blond later, Dorian was pouting at the board while Cullen smirked at him, smug in his victory. “As I said, two rounds.”

“You were insufferable before, Commander. Don’t make it worse, or I shall ban you from my library.” Sighing, he finished off his third glass of wine, watching the other man over the rim of the glass. “Why did you clean it, by the way?” he asked once he’d swallowed, trying to sound casual. “My library, I mean. You didn’t have to. I’m sure it took you and whoever helped you-“

“I did it on my own.” He was blushing again, which almost turned him back into the far less dangerous man Dorian had grown largely immune to since joining the Inquisition. “I… this… this is _your_ place. I would not want to bring anyone here without your permission. I hope you didn’t think I brought an entire platoon here to sweep and dust. I… would not do that without asking. I told only two of my runners where I would be, in case there was urgent news or… or she needed to send me a message.” Cullen paused, still delightfully pink, then seemed to make a conscious effort to lighten his tone. “And while I know I didn’t have to, it _did_ need to be done, and you clearly were not going to.”

“That’s because dusting gets my clothes covered in filth. I spend far too much on my wardrobe to ruin it for something so dreary.” Light and humorous was good, because it helped him deny how warm and fuzzy and gooey the Commander had just made him feel. Not only had he given up a part of his day to clean, he’d done it without aid… out of consideration for _him_. He’d somehow picked up on the way Dorian was fiercely protective of this little sanctuary, and had given extra care and thought to keep it as secret as it could be. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him.

Sad, really, when one thought about it, but true nevertheless.

“Perhaps you should spend the money on something more important – chess lessons, for example.” The bashfulness made a full retreat again, and the smug, assured, smirking Cullen was back. Dorian was scowling at the insult, but it was half-hearted at best. “Now. You owe me a massage, Dorian.”

“I don’t believe I shall give it. You’re far too pleased with yourself, and I don’t want you to start expecting such gestures every time you beat me.” Really, he didn’t mind. Part of him was desperate to get his hands on Cullen in a way that was at least somewhat justified; an equally large part of him didn’t want to lose the feel of his leg sandwiched between two strong, muscular ones.

“If you renege, Dorian, I’ll have to punish you. I know just how to do it too.”

_Fuck._

He pulled away with such speed that Cullen’s eyes went wide in surprise, and he almost sent his chair flying as he stood up. Whether the Commander would notice the bulge in his trousers was far less important than not thinking about the blond punishing him. It sent his imagination spinning into all sorts of wicked places, and that was simply unacceptable.

“Dorian… you know I would never _really_ shave off your mustache, don’t you?”

Blinking, the mage could only stare, lips parting slightly. That’s what Cullen had meant? Oh, he wanted to believe it – or at least most of him did – but… He was beginning to suspect that the Commander wasn’t quite the bumbling near-virgin he made himself out to be. All of the times when he’d made ‘accidental’ sexual innuendos suddenly seemed… sinister.

“I… yes. But you’re right, a gentleman never goes back on his word. Not unless he’s absolutely sure he can get away with it. Am I to massage your shoulders then? Please say yes; I can’t imagine your feet smell all that pleasant with all the tromping about you do all day.”

“My shoulders will be sufficient, yes.”

Thinking he ought to demand Cullen take off his shirt and oil down first – and terrified the blasted man would agree – Dorian stalked around the board, going to stand at the blond’s back. “I do this under protest, mind you.”

“Understood.”

He didn’t start right away, taking a moment to stare down at his friend. If he ran his hands through Cullen’s hair, would the Commander get angry? Would he like it? Would he just not mention it, as they seemed to be doing with everything else? This was all so strange and wonderful and… and new. In Tevinter, there had never been _time_ for flirting and long seductions, not between men, at any rate. With Bull, it had been something he… stumbled into. The Qunari had teased him when they were out having their little adventures with the Inquisitor, but it hadn’t been like this. One night he’d just gone to Bull’s room, and it had been quick and hot and perfect if one only wanted a good fuck. He’d gone back again, and again… and somewhere along the way, he’d lost his heart. There had been no drawn out courtship, no testing the waters, no tantalizing or real teasing. 

Maybe that was why he didn’t want this to stop, even if he knew it would likely not end well for either of them.

“This massage feels an awful lot like not getting one, Dorian.”

“Your sass is unnecessary, Commander.” With the man in front of him waiting not-so-patiently, Dorian carefully laid his hands on broad, muscled shoulders. For a moment that was all he did, all he could bring himself to do as his mouth went dry again. He could feel Cullen’s heat soaking through his clothes, warming his palms; he could smell the other man and hear the soft sound of his breathing and why had he ever agreed to this? Swallowing hard once again, he forced his mind to other, less… stimulating things. The organization of his library, and how he could wrest his books away from his father’s clutching hands. If he just focused on things like that, he could get through this without making a fool of himself.

He hadn’t counted on how hard it would be to keep disengaged, however. As his thumbs led the charge, pressing into hard, knotted muscles, it was difficult to think of anything else. Cullen wasn’t a brute like Bull, but he had the physique of a warrior – Dorian had always been drawn to muscular men, even if they’d been rare among his mage peers. The Commander was definitely impressive in that arena, and the simpler shirt he wore showed them off in a way that his armor never could. Still, he might have been able to take in the visual and the feel of it and then turn his mind to other matters… if only Cullen had remained silent.

At the first press of his thumbs, the other man had sighed; that would have been bearable, a sound easily missed or ignored. But when Dorian applied more pressure, the man let out a groan that went straight to his groin. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK_ was all Dorian could think, realizing what a mistake this might turn out to be. Cullen practically melted under his touch, and the noises he made would have been suited for a far more sensual encounter. The mage tried his best to keep his touch impersonal, but it was hard when he craved the feel of the other man. Soon, caresses made their way into the mix, with Dorian gliding his hands over Cullen’s back and his upper arms in a poorly-disguised attempt to touch as much of the other as he could get away with. The Commander continued to moan and groan in a most indecent manner, until Dorian was rock-hard and fighting the urge to demand Cullen take care of the erection he’d caused.

Pulling his attention away from the man’s shoulders and arm, he rubbed his way to Cullen’s neck, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles there. Another sigh – a good sign, because if he heard many more other noises, he was going to embarrass himself like a teenager – kept him fixed there, working out the kinks. Really, Cullen did need this; from the feel of him, he was almost constantly tense, alert and ready to spring into action. He was almost always moving; if he wasn’t, he was hunched over a desk, studying reports that had been delivered or planning out troop movements to support the Inquisitor. The blond worked himself to the bone for the Inquisition and his beloved Sylaera; the least the woman could offer was a massage now and then to get her Commander back into fighting form.

She didn’t take care of him well enough. Even if Bull hopped into bed with anyone who seemed to ‘need’ him, when he was with Dorian, he was _with_ Dorian. The mage wasn’t happy in his relationship, but… Cullen might have it even worse.

With those thoughts in mind, he stopped worrying about how this was making him feel; Cullen deserved to have his full attention. He needed this, he wanted this, and no matter what it was doing to Dorian didn’t matter as much as taking care of his friend.

He spent a little more time on the man’s neck, then went back to his shoulders. This time, he did it properly, not letting too many sensual gestures creep in. It was still personal and rather intimate, but it didn’t need to be sexual. Not when Cullen was like a puppet divested of its strings, so great was the relief of stress. Indeed, the man seemed almost boneless by the time Dorian returned to his neck, his breath deep and even, like he was on the verge of sleep. Smiling, the mage gave only a brief rub there, then slid his hands into the wavy hair that had earned the man his nickname from Varric.

Once, when he was a child, he’d gotten very ill; it was one of the only times he’d seen his parents so consumed with worry for him that they didn’t bicker with each other. Healers were so very rare in Tevinter, and sometimes people died from things that the greenest healer in Southern Thedas could take care of with ease. His mother – perhaps out of worry she’d be forced back into his father’s bed if he died – had sat with him through the nights, her hands running through his hair. Her nails had brushed lightly over his scalp in the most soothing way, and it had often been that sensation that lulled him into a fitful sleep. 

Imitating the gesture now, he wondered what he would do if _Cullen_ fell asleep; there was no way he could carry the man up the stairs to that horrible little tower of his. Well, he’d worry about that if it happened, because Cullen’s soft, happy sigh said he was enjoying the attention… and Dorian was enjoying giving it. For long minutes, he kept up that light, gentle scalp massage, until the Commander roused from his languorous state. Reaching up, the blond took hold of Dorian’s wrists, drawing them back down to his shoulders. For a moment, he simply held on, and the mage wished he could see his friend’s face; he yearned for even the smallest glimpse into what Cullen was thinking.

Just as he was about to pull away, the other man turned his head to the left, brushing a soft kiss over Dorian’s palm. “Thank you, Dorian.” He murmured, lips buzzing against his skin in a way that didn’t quite tickle. Then his head turned in the other direction, and Dorian’s right hand received the same sweet gesture. “That was wonderful.” His fingers tightened just a moment around the dark-haired man’s wrists… and then he let go. It took Dorian a moment to recover his wits enough to remove his hands from Cullen’s shoulders; when he did, it was with reluctance.

“I can’t believe you made all that fuss about releasing me from this duty. I lost, Cullen – I am always happy to pay my gaming debts.” His voice had started out a bit shaky, but he’d regained his usual flippant tone halfway through his first sentence, thankfully.

“Of course, Dorian.” Cullen murmured, amusement clear in his voice, even if he did still sound a bit dozy. “I’m sorry I fought against your immediate efforts to give me the massage you owed me. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t. Your back and shoulders are a mess, Commander, and your neck even worse than that. I must insist you find someone to do this regularly, not just after you beat them at chess. If I am the only one up to the task, I shall do it… but only if you ply me with cakes, fancy silks, and chess lessons.”

Sleepy Cullen’s chuckle was a deep, rumbling thing that made Dorian shiver from the tips of his ears right down to his toes. “I can manage the chess lessons and perhaps a cake every once in a while, but silks are… not quite as easy to promise.”

“Hm. Then I’ll settle for chess lessons, the occasional cake, and a return of the favor every now and again.”

“Done.” 

Cullen’s agreement was swift and decisive, which was a nice boost to Dorian’s ego. Grinning, he smoothed his mustache, pleased that he’d managed to please… and also perhaps just the slightest bit happy that he’d be giving his friend regular relief from all the stress he carried. It would be a way to return his kindness, a way to say ‘thank you’ for his easy acceptance of Dorian’s presence. That old hen Mother Giselle had put up far more of a fuss than the former Templar. He’d probably expressed concern to the Inquisitor in private, but even in the beginning, he’d been nothing but civil. He was, perhaps, the only one outside of Lavellan’s regular companions who seemed to like him and trust him; everyone else seemed to be waiting for him to turn on them, or worse, resort to blood magic.

“Good. I’m glad you see the use for it. If we were in Tevinter, I would suggest a regular visit to the bathhouse, but you barbarians hardly bathe period. Regular soaks would do you good, but as you haven’t even got a roof, I doubt you have a tub large enough to make any difference.”

“You are right on that count. I have no need of such things, not when our resources could be used in much better ways. I don’t mind the draft. I…” For a moment, he paused, and there was an odd tension in the air. Cullen was thinking of something, and it wasn’t anything pleasant. “I often toss and turn in my sleep. The cool air keeps me from drenching my sheets in sweat.”

There was something else to it… but Dorian didn’t dare push. Not yet. Their conversations seldom roamed into deeper waters, and he didn’t want to ruin the night with heavy conversation.

“That’s all well and good, but if you get the sniffles, I can’t help you. You’ll have to go to Solas, and he’s so _charming_ while rendering aid. Or you could go to Vivienne; she’s also a delight. You know, I find it strange that I am the most bearable mage that the Inquisitor has taken into her inner circle. I’m fabulous, yes, but other people don’t seem to understand that.”

Cullen was laughing again, that odd heaviness in the air dissipated and soon forgotten. “You aren’t as bad as others make you out to be. I find I quite enjoy your company. You should… you should learn to treat sniffles. I…” Another pause, and Dorian was interested to note the flush that spread over the back of Cullen’s neck. “I would trust you to heal me. I am… uncomfortable with the notion of anyone…”

Suddenly, the other man was pushing his chair away from the chess board; Dorian hurried to give him enough room to stand. Once he had, the blond quickly stepped around the piece of furniture, and was again invading Dorian’s space. “I would have _you_ heal me, if I became ill. If you cannot, I will simply have to let the sniffles run their course.”

Fuck. Now Dorian would have to try and learn how to heal.

He had no choice, not with Cullen looking down into his eyes, sincerity in his own as he whispered that he’d prefer Dorian’s care over any other mage's. “It would be very undignified for the Commander of the Inquisition to go about sniffling and sneezing, you know. I suppose I shall indeed have to put aside some of my other, worthier pursuits and learn something so undignified as healing.” The other man gave that open grin that Dorian secretly adored… that then morphed into a smirk as he stepped even closer to Dorian.

“That is thoughtful of you, Dorian. You know… that massage you gave me was very thorough; certainly more than a single game of chess would win me.”

“You… would like to play again then?” The mage asked, Cullen’s scent filling his nose and his face filling his vision. Maker, he was so close; he fancied he could even feel the other man’s warmth reaching out to him, twining around him affectionately. 

“No. Beating you soundly would hardly be a way to thank you.”

“Thank me? Whatever for? I’ve done nothing of note in at least an hour.” The puppy had turned into a sleek jungle cat, predatory and quietly confident. Dorian suddenly felt like prey, and it thrilled him far more than it should. What _was_ Cullen thinking?

“For taking care of me.” As it had earlier that day, Cullen’s left hand lifted and found his neck; his thumb again found the bruise he’d left there, stroking it lightly. Dorian’s eyes drifted shut, and he swayed slightly toward the other man. That seemed to be all the signal the blond needed, for he slipped his right arm around Dorian’s waist and drew him closer, until their bodies were flush against each other. The mage had just enough time to put his hand on Cullen’s shoulders – he thought he meant to push the other man away, but he would never find out for sure.

Not when Cullen’s mouth found his in a kiss that was the complete opposite of the previous one they’d shared. It was tender and sweet and slow… and Dorian melted like butter left out on a hot day. His hands tightened on the blond’s shoulders, holding him close instead of forcing him away. This was insane; this was wonderful. Even with the desperation gone, Cullen kissed him like he _wanted_ to kiss him. It wasn’t part of some tradition they’d fallen into that bordered on rote ritual. It was new and raw and exciting, and he hated himself a little for succumbing to those feelings so easily.

The hate melted away though, just like it did with Bull. When Cullen’s lips parted and his teeth took hold of Dorian’s lower lip to give a gentle tug, Dorian groaned softly. His tongue came out to soothe the ‘hurt’, then licked at the seam of his lips until they opened for him. When it slid into Dorian’s mouth, the mage could taste the wine they’d been drinking… and again, it tasted far better than out of the bottle.

With the man kissing him this way, he kept a better hold of some of his faculties; this time, he got to touch Cullen back. One of his hands went to curl around the back of the other’s neck, his fingers slipping again into that blond, slightly coarse hair. At the same time, his right hand slid downward, coming between them so he could put his hand over the man’s heart. Again, it was pounding faster, nearly matching his own in tempo. While neither of them were spinning so far into lustful territory that they were getting hard, he knew Cullen was just as engaged as he was; this was about _both_ of them wanting and needing.

When their lips parted, Dorian forced his eyes open – that let him see Cullen’s face, so close to his own. His eyes were still closed, and he looked relaxed, a peace in his features that was usually absent. His forehead briefly touched Dorian’s, and then he straightened, their gazes clashing when his eyes opened. “Thank you.” He whispered, voice hoarse and full of feelings that the mage couldn’t quite identify.

“You’re welcome doesn’t seem quite adequate.” He answered, his own voice hushed as well as he searched Cullen’s eyes. “What are we doing, Commander?”

“I…” The other man paused, much of that confidence from earlier giving way under the weight of their situation. “I could not say, exactly. I only know…” His left hand lifted, fingers lightly brushing over the mole on Dorian’s cheek in a tender fashion. “I enjoy your company. As to the rest… I truly… I don’t…”

Both of them fell silent, wrestling with their own thoughts and consciences and damaged relationships. While it was somehow reassuring that Cullen also seemed confused about this sudden development between them, it left both of them floundering, unsure of their destination or how to get there. He at least had Bull’s permission – and oh, it was absolutely galling to think of it that way – to enjoy the company of others. As much as that rankled most of the time, at least he could explore… whatever this was with only a few pinches of guilt to nag him. He had no idea of the inner workings of Cullen’s relationship, and he didn’t really want to know; even thinking about hearing Cullen explain it had him irritated. But did he want to explore this? Did he want to know what it could be like with Cullen, even knowing it could destroy the relationship he had with Bull?

“May I come again tomorrow? We don’t have to play chess. I… we could go somewhere else, if you wish, or… I just…”

Dorian answered his own internal questions by leaning up those two inches that separated them and kissing the other man softly. “Come here. We’ll… figure out the rest as we go.”

“Your mustache tickles, you know.”

“If you even think of shaving it off, I will wreak havoc on your life until the day I die.”

“I would never. It’s part of you. I… I happen to like you. I like how it... well. The mustache stays. I mean… unless you decided you wanted to shave it.”

“Thank you ever so much for allowing me to decide on my own facial hair.”

“I didn’t mean-“

“I know.” Dorian reassured, smiling as he bumped his nose against the other man’s. “It was a joke. I’m very funny you know.”

Cullen gave a smile that was slightly uncertain; in an echo of his earlier touch, Dorian moved his hand to the man’s lips, tracing that scar. “Someday, will you tell me how you got this? I’ve wanted to ask, but it seemed in bad taste. I am impeccably polite along with being both dashingly handsome and fantastically humorous.”

“Dorian.” He liked it when Cullen said his voice that way, his voice full of laughter and good humor. “I will tell you, someday.” Silence between them, intimate and full of feelings and possibility; this time, Dorian didn’t rush to fill it. They stood there, holding onto each other, for quite some time. No crashes interrupted them, no one came to disturb the little world they were crafting in Dorian’s library. 

Finally, reluctantly, Dorian sighed and pulled back a little, making a face. “As lovely as this has been, Cullen, creatures as rare and wondrous as I must rest well, or we begin to look as common as everyone else. Not that you don’t have your own certain something, of course. I couldn’t pull off a fur collar half so well.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“While it sounds a bit harsh… yes. Yes I am. Now shoo; I have rules to rewrite before I find my bed for the night.”

“Fine. But first…” Dorian watched as Cullen’s gaze dropped to the mark he’d made, saw him lick his lips and take a ragged breath. “I… liked seeing this.” The man’s voice was soft, so much so that Dorian almost missed the words. “You will have to forgive me.” Before the mage could ask why, the blond moved forward and pressed his mouth over the bruise. He bit down just hard enough that Dorian whimpered, pain riding the edge of pleasure. Cullen’s eyes lifted and met his; as he laved the injured flesh with this tongue, soothing the bite, he kept Dorian’s gaze captive. When he close his mouth over the area and sucked at his flesh, Dorian’s knees almost buckled… but they were still looking each other in the eye. It was shockingly intimate, and he swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away so he could hide his feelings from the other man. Cullen pulled back and finally broke that line of connection, gazing at the love bite that he’d renewed.

“I… forgive me. I should have asked. It was only-“

Dorian pressed a finger to Cullen’s lips, stopping the flustered explanation before he gave it. “I know. Now shoo. I will see you tomorrow evening. Unless you change your mind, of course. If you decide I am too magnificent to bear and you don’t wish to suffer my company, I will understand.”

“Dorian? I won’t change my mind. We have… a week at least. I want… I mean I wish…” Instead of trying to stumble through the words, Cullen’s mouth met his once more in a brief kiss; that said everything either of them needed to know.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Commander.”

“Tomorrow. You may pick the wine this time, since you found mine so lacking.”

“Ah, then tomorrow you will finally know what wine is _supposed_ to taste like. I shall astonish and educate you. You shall never be the same.”

“No… I don’t suppose I will. Goodnight Dorian.”

“Sleep well, Cullen.”

The sad, haunted smile he got in response cut Dorian to the quick. Before he could ask, the blond had turned and walked out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. A week, Cullen said. They had a week to figure out what was between them; a week before they had to face reality; a week before everything fell apart.

A week had never seemed so short a time before.


	5. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's attempts to amuse himself at the Commander's expense might be more than it seems at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't really intending to post anything until later if at all today, but... I made a Tumblr account, and it confused and frightened me, so I hid in words. XD I don't really get how it works; I've turned into that lame adult who pesters the youngsters about all the new-fangled social platforms.
> 
> Anyway, thinking of maybe doing a separate but related series that would just be their letters to each other. Dunno.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

  
_Commander –_

_One of your runners came to my library; he seemed to be under the impression that he was to deliver your missives here every afternoon. Did you plan to foist your presence on me daily in our little hide-away? I must say I’m in favor, so long as it is only the afternoons. I must get some work done, after all. Despite my overwhelming curiosity, I managed not to rifle through too many of the documents your little underling carried, and they should all reach you unharmed and intact._

_Please ignore the scorch mark on the corner of a few pages; your runner and I had a little scuffle. He’s fine, and that eyebrow_ will _grow back within a few weeks. The man is simply overdramatic, and whatever he says is a mixture of vicious lies and slander._

_Please send any replies with someone else, as he is most unsuitable for the task._

_Dorian Pavus, Mage and Magnificent Dresser_

~.~.~

**What did you do to the man? He’s babbling about fireballs and demons. Five pages are missing from the report Knight-Captain Rylan sent. He numbers them. I wish those pages returned to me.**

~.~.~

_Commander –_

_I realize you are indeed an uncouth barbarian, but there is a certain amount of etiquette that should be followed when exchanging letters. First, there is a line of greeting; nothing extravagant, just my name will do. If you want to add any flourishes there, I won’t begrudge them, of course._

_After that comes the message itself, usually expressed in more polite terms. If you'd used 'please', I might be more inclined to follow your request right down to the letter. Clever little pun in there somewhere, but I’m too distracted to think of it. This Knight-Captain of yours is quite the talented writer. I am absolutely enthralled by his detailing of the attempts made to relocate the Varghests in that oasis place. Why in the Maker’s name did he try something so foolish when he could have just had your soldiers whack them with those metal sticks you all carry? The page that lets me know that is probably with you. If you wouldn’t mind sending it over with this dear girl, I would be most grateful._

_There, you see how it is done? If you improve your efforts, I will send you the pages once I am through reading them._

_Also, the man who came before didn’t knock, and I was in the middle of a very delicate bit of tinkering. He startled me, and a few spells may have accidentally been sent his way. If he hadn’t been so panicked, everything would have turned out fine. As it is, he’s a fool and I shan’t tolerate his presence._

_I like this one. Keep her and get rid of that other one._

_Now that the body of my letter is finished, I end it with my own signature and title._

_Dorian Pavus, Excellent Letter Writer and Gracious Tutor_

~.~.~

**I have no time for games, Dorian, and these reports are classified. I will NOT send you the page you have requested, because the whole thing was meant for my eyes alone. If you will PLEASE send the ones in your possession along with Kattrin, I would appreciate it.**

**Was he panicking because you cast HORROR and there were SPIRITS attacking him, Dorian?**

**Also, they are called swords. They are not sticks.**

**Cullen, irritated Commander of the Inquisition**

~.~.~

_Cullen, my dear irate Templar –_

_You have forgotten the very first part of letter writing. How am I to know it is for me unless you put it in writing? Kattrin – lovely, lovely girl with a wonderful laugh – could have given your note to anyone without knowing it was for me, and they’d have been flabbergasted and appalled that you are so careless with your confidential reports. Then where would you be? Thankfully, she has a good head on her shoulders and came directly to me._

_Her late return is due to the cookies and tea we had; poor thing’s been running all over Skyhold on mad orders. She needed a bit of refreshing. During our chat, she informed me that you have not eaten. I am sending several cookies to you wrapped in the first of the five pages that were in my possession._

_HA! I would never do such a thing, and shame on you for throwing this aside and lunging for the poor girl and her goodies. ‘Tis but an empty piece of vellum, and she’ll hand you the real thing as soon as she stops laughing. I told her how you’d react, you see, and I’m sure she’ll find the whole thing dreadfully amusing._

_The Spirits that are linked with Horror, by the way, do not attack. Of course, the fear they inspire does, in theory, make it_ seem _like they might. Only in theory, mind. If a startled, talented and handsome mage were to throw a few fireballs immediately after, that could – perhaps – compound the fear. But all this is very vague and very complex, and you wouldn’t possibly understand. The man overreacted._

_Let us try this again, and perhaps you will earn another page. If you do very, very well, I will also send you lunch._

_Dorian, Astoundingly Patient and Not at all Scary Mage_

~.~.~

**Dorian**

**I wish you would stop this madness. I need the report, and I need Kattrin with me, since you scared poor Nylan half to death with your foolishness. He will be useless the rest of the day. I think HIS was not the overreaction. If you greet me the same way tonight, I shall Smite you. Please give me the rest of the pages, Dorian. I would like to get this finished. The sooner my work is done, the sooner I can come to your library tonight.**

**Cullen, FORMER Templar, now Commander of the Inquisition**

**If you did have any food to spare, I would not mind receiving it. The cookies were excellent, now that I’ve had a moment to calm down and eat one.**

~.~.~

_Cullen, my adorably surly friend –_

_So much better! I could practically hear your teeth grinding together during the first part, but I don’t blame you entirely. It was a wicked trick to play; Kattrin says you did exactly as I said you would, however, and she found it most amusing. I really do like her. I may steal her and turn her into my assistant. You may keep Nylan and his dramatics. I am a very serious minded mage, after all, and I need someone who can keep calm under pressure. Frankly, I’m amazed at your willingness to employ Nylan as anything but a training dummy. Though now that I think on it, he can run fairly fast. Nearly broke a sweat trying to chase him down to put the fire out._

_If you’d like to Smite me, you can try. Smite me all you’d like, Commander. You may even wave your metal stick at me threateningly, if it pleases you. I promise to act frightened._

_Kattrin should have given you the basket I sent along – I hope you enjoy it. The cook is frightened of me for some peculiar reason, and always gives me too much if I apply directly at the kitchens for my noon meal. You Southerners are so very odd. I should study you the way some study bogfishers. I imagine the smell is much the same._

_She also has the pages I had kept, but she has strict instructions not to hand them over until you’ve eaten. Stop snarling, Commander. Apparently no one has yet had the gall to inform you that you work too hard. I have taken it upon myself to interfere for your own good, and the good of the illustrious Inquisition._

_Eat something, you ridiculous man, before you keel over and get ink all over your face when you tip over the pot. If Kattrin returns a less than satisfactory report, I will come to you myself, and things will not end well for you. I intend to pout until you give in._

_My pout has brought nations to their knees, Commander._

_All of this will delay your work far longer than if you just ate. If you do that, we can meet sooner, as you already mentioned. Perhaps even for dinner? I have been informed that you often put that off far too long as well. Eat lunch and finish your work, then come here and I will feed you again._

_Please, please tell me why the Varghests were relocated instead of whacked with metal sticks._

_Dorian, Worrier After Your Health_

~.~.~

**Dorian**

**There is no need to worry about me. I assure you I am in fine health. It is kind of you, but unnecessary. I do thank you for the food however.**

**Did you shoot fireballs at the cook too? Because then his fear is entirely justified and you know it.**

**They are NOT metal sticks. They are SWORDS, and they are POINTY, and SHARP and NOT STICKS.**

**Look at the foolishness you’ve made me write. I thank you for the return of the pages you stole. Now that I have them, I do believe I could finish in time to meet you for the evening meal. I think I would enjoy it. I will tell you about the Varghests then.**

**Please do not ever write of me Smiting you that way again. It sounded dirty, and from the way Kattrin is giggling, I believe she is reading these. If you steal her, I will never forgive you.**

**I am not surly, nor am I adorable. And your pout wields no power over me.**

**Cullen, Well Fed Commander**

~.~.~

_Cullen, my strapping and handsome darling –_

_I did make you write foolishness, and I would apologize except for two rather significant things. This exchange made you eat lunch, and Kattrin says you relaxed that sexy scowl of yours into a grin as soon as it started._

_Sexy is my word, by the way. I don’t believe she is attracted to you that way. (If you are, you naughty girl, take your affections elsewhere; this man is involved with the Inquisitor, after all – only I dare court death by flirting)_

_I shall take your lack of forgiveness into consideration, but I truly think she would be happier with me. Unless you allow her to ferry messages between the two of us from now on to provide her amusement, I don’t see how you can offer better working conditions than I._

_If you do not arrive promptly at the dinner hour, I shall find you and show you just how powerful my pout is._

_Then you can Smite me, as I know you dearly wish to. Just… be gentle, please._

_Keep smiling, and please take a break every now and again so you don’t ruin all the work I did on you last night._

_Dorian, Your Caretaker_

~.~.~

**Dorian**

**I do not scowl. Much.**

**Perhaps your letters did bring me some small amusement. Kattrin may carry missives between us if she so chooses, so long as it does not interfere with her other errands.**

**Stop writing things that sound dirty. She IS reading them and the giggling is getting worse.**

**Thank you for your ill-advised attempts to see to my welfare.**

**Cullen**

~.~.~

_Cullen –_

_If I don’t look after you, who will? You’re most welcome, and I look forward to seeing you tonight._

_Kattrin is yours for the rest of the day, as I must go find the cook and apologize for those fireballs you reminded me I might have thrown at him early on in our acquaintance. If people would stop barging in on me, this wouldn’t be a problem._

_Anyway, take care, or I shall pout my hardest at you later._

_Dorian_

~.~.~

Kattrin had read through the exchange several times already, giggling all the while. The men had tossed them, of course, but she’d gathered the sheets together while they were away getting supper. It was shamefully easy to get into her Commander’s tower, and Dorian’s library had no door – both things made the task simple and quick. She wasn’t going to be broadcasting them all over as she was no fool, but… something told her that the pair might like to have them later.

Maybe if her Commander finally realized the Inquisitor had no inclination toward monogamy, he’d steal the Tevinter mage away from that scary horned fellow. She could bind these and give them as an anniversary present; they could remember how it had started.

Decided, the recruit folded up the papers and hid them in her locked jewelry box. It was a gift from her mother and usually held only air – now it served a higher purpose. If they kept throwing away letters, she would keep grabbing them, until she had a treasure trove of paper and ink, ready to be presented at the perfect moment.


	6. Touching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if done through paper and ink, teasing can be foreplay; Dorian and Cullen take another step down their winding road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some smut; I hope it isn't awful. XD
> 
> I also want to say that all the comments and kudos mean the world to me. <3 Thank you all so very much!

Dorian was humming.

He _never_ hummed – indeed, found it to be a very annoying trait in others – but there he was. Sorting books. Humming a cheerful little dance reel like a love-struck fool. It was ludicrous, really, but he just couldn’t help it. Dinner would be just about ready for the dignitaries and Lavellan’s closest confidants – the kitchens provided food that was decent, all things considered. That meant that soon, Cullen would arrive; though it was preposterous to be so excited to see the blond, he was. Somehow exchanging letters the way they had made Dorian _miss_ his friend more keenly than usual. He wanted more – he wanted to watch the man try not to laugh and see the way his eyes lit up. He wanted to hear Cullen’s voice in his ears, even if he could hear it in his head while reading his words. He just… wanted Cullen, who was on his way.

And while he awaited that arrival, he hummed because apparently he’d turned into one of Varric’s more ridiculous storybook characters.

When he heard firm, even footsteps approaching, the mage felt heart do the most disconcerting flip. He couldn’t help the way his lips curved up into a warm, welcoming smile as he turned toward the door. “Cullen.” He greeted when the man was silhouetted in the doorway; the Commander paused there, still in his armor and that very fashionable-for-Fereldan fur collar of his. He hadn’t gone to change – he’d come right to Dorian when his work was finished. That shouldn’t make him as happy as it did.

About to urge the man to come in and take a seat while he finished shelving these last few books, he stopped when he heard Cullen mutter an oath under his breath. In three quick strides he’d closed the distance between them; before Dorian could react, the blond shoved his back against the stone wall between two bookcases. He hit hard enough that he grunted in slightly-pained surprised, the books in his hands falling to the ground. That was annoying, even if the way the other man was crowding him against the wall, hands on either side of his head, made his stomach go tight and caused his cock to give a twitch of interest. “Those are pricele-“

The rest of his scold was swallowed by Cullen’s mouth as it crashed into his. For just a moment, there was an awkward meeting of lips and teeth; as soon as Dorian decided talking really wasn’t important just then, all that awkwardness fell away. The blond was devouring his mouth like a man starved, tongue spearing past his lips to greedily take what the mage had to offer. It looked like someone had missed him, and the aggression and possessiveness the Commander was demonstrating – edged with just a hint of desperation – was a potent mixture that went straight to his head. When his hands reached out, eager to touch the other man, perhaps get rid of some of his armor, Cullen growled and grabbed hold of his wrists, pinning them above his head.

His stubborn streak demanded he test that hold. Even as he kissed the man back, tongue dueling with Cullen’s for control of the kiss, he tried to free his arms, struggling against the weight of the blonde’s hands. It was, of course, futile – Cullen easily beat him when it came to brute strength. However, it did earn him something just as good. The Commander growled into his mouth again, one muscled thigh pushing between Dorian’s legs, spreading them apart before his hips rolled forward. Where the mage was still only semi-hard and rising rapidly, Cullen was already rock-hard as he began to grind against Dorian. 

The fur of that ridiculous collar brushed against his cheeks, and he could hear the leather of the man’s gloves creaking softly as he tightened his hold on Dorian’s wrists. The kiss and that insistent press of Cullen’s erection against his conspired to rob him of his breath, until he was dizzy from the pleasure of it. The blond finally ripped his mouth away, leaving both of them gasping for breath, Dorian’s head falling back against the stone. “Fuck… Cullen…” Even to his own ears, he sounded needy, a bit of a whimper in his voice; he didn’t mind as long as the other man kept doing what he was doing.

“All afternoon.” The rough, husky edge to the Commander’s voice was something he’d never heard before, and it made him moan as the man whispered in his ear. “All afternoon you’ve been in my head, Dorian. You… Maker’s breath.” Slightly chapped lips trailed down the column of his neck; Dorian wasn’t a bit surprised when teeth sank into the tender flesh there. He cried out softly as Cullen left another mark, and felt the blonde’s cock jump at the sound – the man liked him vocal, it seemed. “You and your letters.” Cullen accused raggedly against his skin, head tipped back slightly so he could meet Dorian’s eyes. “And your threats of _pouting_ and talk of _smiting_ … I’ve been hard all Blighted afternoon.” As if to demonstrate just that, he stopped rocking his hips and simply pressed hard against Dorian, letting him feel the thick outline of the other man. 

“I… I did try to warn you.” Dorian panted, arching up off the wall as best he could to meet him. “You didn’t even see my pout. Once you do, you’ll- _fuuuuck_.” Another bite had his hips bucking up and his arms fighting Cullen’s hold again. This time, the blond let him win, and as his hands fell to the other’s shoulders, the Commander took hold of Dorian’s hips in a punishing grip. A moment later, they slid around the mage to grab his ass, pulling them even tighter together; a bit uncomfortable with the metal chest piece he was wearing, but Dorian was NOT interrupting the moment for something so petty. “When you see it… you won’t be able to deny me a thing. Fuck, that’s good… Cullen…”

The man’s strong hands kneaded his ass while he raised his head to steal another kiss. This time Dorian took immediate control, invading Cullen’s mouth before the Commander stole the march on him. Of course that made the blond chuckle, which turned the tension building in the mage even tighter. One hand delved into Cullen’s hair, carding through the coarse locks before tangling his fingers there. His other hand gripped the fur collar he hated so much – with his current paramour all done up in tin, it was the safest place to grab. 

When Cullen’s hands disappeared, he made a sound of protest and started to break the kiss; the man completed the gesture. His eyes, hooded and dark with lust, were locked on Dorian’s as he lifted his right hand and used his mouth to sharply tug off the glove covering his skin. It fell to the floor with a thud that seemed much too loud; the room was almost completely silent, other than their heavy breathing and exclamations, the occasional rustle of cloth or creak of armor echoing in the relatively empty space. “All afternoon, Dorian. For you.” Cullen sounded strange – almost reverent, like the fact was something precious to him. “I kept thinking… I want…” 

Dorian stared at him, licking his lips as he tried to formulate some kind of response through the fog that had descended on his mind. Before he could succeed Cullen’s fingers were at the laces of his breeches, undoing them in quick, jerky motions. “Cullen-“ His head was spinning, and he didn’t really know what to think or if this was something that should be happening. He wanted it though – he wanted it so bad it hurt. He didn’t want to think, he wanted to feel. Cullen filled his entire world in that moment; his Commander was all he could see, the rest of Thedas falling away.

The whole Blighted rest of the world could end just then, and he wouldn’t care a bit as long as this didn’t.

“I just…” Though the laces were undone, Cullen didn’t tug his breeches down or slide his hand inside. Instead he paused and pressed his forehead against Dorian’s, his eyes shutting a moment as he breathed deeply. “May I touch you?”

The man could be sweet at the oddest moments; he made Dorian’s heart melt even as he wanted to demand Cullen bend him over his deck and fuck him.

“Of course. I would be a tad disappointed if you didn’t at this point.” He kept his voice as soft as the blonde’s had been, removing his hand from the furry monstrosity to cup Cullen’s cheek instead. “Touch me, Cullen.” He watched as the other man swallowed hard, throat bobbing. Their lips met again in kiss that was gentler and full of affection; a sweet kiss to match his Commander’s adorable shift in mood. Moving carefully, like he was afraid Dorian would change his mind if he went too fast, Cullen tugged at Dorian’s breeches and smalls, until they were slung low on the mages hips. Even then, the man didn’t simply dive right in – he slipped his hand under Dorian’s shirt first, hand splayed over his abdomen in a possessive gesture.

Pulling back from the mage’s mouth, he put his lips to his ear instead, whispering in that husky voice as his fingers slowly slid down Dorian’s dusky skin. “Our first time, Dorian, won’t be against a wall.” The man nuzzled his ear, and he could feel the smile that was curving his scarred lips. “It will be in a bed – yours or mine, whichever you prefer. I will touch and taste every inch of you. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes.” Dorian agreed on an exhale, pushing his hips up off the wall in an attempt to make Cullen’s hand move faster. “So long as I get to… to return the favor. Maker, I want to touch you so badly-“

“Shhh. You will. I promise you that, Dorian. But for now… can… can I just have this? Can I just touch you?” His fingers had dipped below the waistline of Dorian’s breeches, and were so very, very close to touching his throbbing erection. So close, and yet as far as way as bloody _Minrathous_. With anyone else, in any other place, Dorian would be complaining about that; he would also be incredibly bratty about demanding he be allowed to touch now. But when his Commander met his eyes, there was a fragile vulnerability in his gaze that very nearly broke his heart. The man was asking for something so simple – when was the last time Bull had ever asked him for something instead of offering? When had Sylaera ever given Cullen anything at all?

Moving as carefully as the blond had earlier, he framed the man’s face with his hands. Smiling tenderly, he brushed his nose over Cullen’s, then pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You may have anything you wish of me, my adorable, surly Commander. All you ever need do is ask.” The smile that blossomed on Cullen’s lips was like the dawning of the sun, and Dorian was sure he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

“Thank you, Dorian. I promise, next time-“

“It isn’t about keeping score that way, Cullen.” Letting his lips curve up in a smirk, he pushed off the wall at his back and thrust his hips forward, trying to draw the blonde’s attention; it worked. “Now. You have me here, partly undressed and absolutely dying for you to wrap your hand around my cock. Is that what you wanted, Cullen?”

“Yes.” The admission was hoarse and guttural, his gaze fixed on the place where his fingers brushed over a thatch of dark hair and dipped beneath Dorian’s clothes.

“Then take it.” 

Cullen groaned, giving a shudder that seemed drawn up from the very depths of his soul. “ _Dorian_ …” Finally, his hand crossed that last small distance, and Dorian nearly embarrassed himself. Though the first touch was nothing more than warm, calloused fingers running down his length, it was still so _much_ somehow. When Cullen took hold of his cock and gave a gentle squeeze, Dorian hissed in pleasure, his head falling back against the wall again as his hips bucked up and his shaft jerked in Cullen’s hand.

“Not… going to last very long.” Dorian warned in a pant, eyes half-closed as he watched his Commander. The man nodded, eyes still pinned to the mage’s groin as his left hand – still in its leather glove – worked to pull his bottoms even lower, drawing Dorian’s cock out with his right. The way his expression changed when Dorian was revealed to his eyes had the mage ready to preen like a peacock. He was certainly nowhere near as large as Bull, but he thought he acquitted himself quite well. Cullen certainly seemed impressed, his eyes flaring a moment as he ran his tongue over his lower lip. His head was flushed with arousal, and pre-cum had already begun to leak from the tip. Cullen licked his lips again, then smeared his thumb over the fluid; Dorian bit his lower lip in an effort to maintain control.

“Mellitus,” the mage breathed, the endearment slipping out without his conscious consent. “I was not jesting earlier.”

“I didn’t believe you were.” Cullen was blushing, but he didn’t ask about the Tevene word – whether he understood it or not, Dorian didn’t know and didn’t care at that moment. “If this is enough to make you cum, that’s fine. I just wanted… I needed to touch you, Dorian. I’ve been picturing it in my head all afternoon.” Finally looking up at Dorian again, he gave that smirk that made the mage want to either kiss him or punch him – kissing certainly held the edge in _that_ contest. “Do you know that grease spell all you mages pretend to use for enhancing fire spells?”

“I will have you know that it actually does increase the area of affect for many spells dependent upon fire as an element, and has many uses in battle on its own. And of _course_ I do. It’s the first one any teenage boy wants to learn.” Still smirking, Cullen let go of Dorian’s cock to lift his hand; obligingly, the mage called upon his magic – and he knew he didn’t imagine the slight tightening around Cullen’s eyes. The moment passed quickly, however… and the slick warmth of Cullen’s hand soon drove it from his memory.

“Fuck… Cullen... Mellitus…” With little preamble, his Commander began to pump his fist up and down Dorian’s length. Though he moved slowly at first, he watched Dorian’s face as he varied speed and pressure, until he found the combination that made the mage cry out and jerk in his hand. The man was crowding him again, standing so very close as worked to make his friend lose control. After a moment of Dorian’s gasping and squirming, his free hand went to the back of Dorian’s neck and drew him forward; his forehead rested lightly against the darker man’s, locking gazes with the other.

Dorian couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained there, on Cullen’s. His eyes had darkened with lust, his cheeks were flushed and he was beginning to breathe as erratically as Dorian. Despite the fact that they were both fully clothed, despite the fact that he hadn’t even seen or really touched Cullen, the Tevinter mage was absolutely certain that this was the most intense, intimate encounter he’d ever had. Their breath mingled as they panted in concert, Cullen’s hand still holding the back of Dorian’s neck while Dorian gripped that black and red fur once more. It felt so fucking _good_ , pleasure coiling tightly inside of him, toes digging into shoes as he did his best to hold on, to make this last.

Everything about the past few days – the near-constant ache for Cullen, the confusing feelings and thoughts, the sudden high of being able to _give_ his partner something and the incredible intimacy of the moment – conspired to make this foray into the sensual a very short one. It felt like Cullen had only just found the right rhythm when that coiled pleasure released. Dorian couldn’t even give the other man much warning besides a loud intake of air; he’d meant to use it to let Cullen know, but instead used it to cry out the other man’s name. Bucking up into the man’s hand, he gave himself over to the feeling, fingers curling tightly into the ghastly fur Cullen wore, his eyes finally snapping shut.

Dimly, he heard Cullen give a hoarse cry of his own, and then lips covered his, drawing him into a passionate kiss as he rode out the last few pulses of pleasure. Cullen’s hand slowed, then stopped, but remained loosely around Dorian’s shaft, as if he were reluctant to let the moment end even if it clearly had. The kiss turned from hot to simply warm; then it became soft and soothing, drawing Dorian back from the clouds, into Thedas and the real world once more.

He hated the real world.

Maybe not all of it though, he decided when the kiss still didn’t really end. Cullen would pull back briefly, but came back swiftly; it made Dorian feel like the blond couldn’t get enough. It made him feel as essential as air – more so, because Cullen seemed to spend more time kissing him than breathing. Finally, however, they were forced to part… at least a little. Cullen’s forehead stayed pressed to Dorian’s, and the mage kept giving in to the urge to brush his nose affectionately over his Commander’s.

As they both caught their breath and Dorian’s heart began to settle into its regular pace, they heard it –the bell calling those of importance in Skyhold to dinner. Immediately, Dorian groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall. “No. Not yet. We can be late, can’t we? I did feed you earlier. I don’t want to leave _you_ wanting, and-“

“Dorian.”

“-you said you’ve been hard all afternoon – which I find very flattering, Mellitus – and you shouldn’t have to-

“Dorian.”

“-stay that way any longer. It simply isn’t rig-“

“DORIAN!” Cullen was laughing and shouting at the same time, finally getting the mage to stop in his rant. His eyes were warm with affection as he rubbed the back of Dorian’s neck, head tipped to one side. “It is fine. You… I…” The amusement faded a bit as he blushed, looking away. “I had been hard all afternoon. That’s one reason I… one touch from you and…” Stumbling a moment, he finally squared his shoulders and nodded decisively; the sheepish look on his face said he was still embarrassed. “I’m not hard anymore, Dorian. Touching you… watching you… it was enough. I'm in need of a change of smalls myself.”

“Oh. Then why did you let me natter on for so long?”

“I tried to stop you, but you love the sound of your own voice so much that you don’t always listen when people try to interrupt you.”

“That’s because interrupting people is rude – barbaric even. Next time I don’t listen, you shou-“

Cullen, who’d been rolling his eyes, leaned in and caught Dorian’s lips in another kiss, this one light and brief, but still enough to bring his ranting to a halt. For a heartbeat, anyway.

“Ahem. Yes, that’s it exactly. Do that.”

“… is this going to be one of the new rules? Because I believe I would be fine with that.”

“No! Well, yes. But you can’t do it _all_ the time. I shall come up with a limit and amend the rules I laid out last night.”

“Whatever you say, Dorian.”

“Quite so.”

“Now, about dinner.”

“Oh, right. I am…” Looking down at himself, he gave a soft chuckle. “I don’t believe I can go to dinner like this. I’d very much like to go to my room and clean up, actually.”

“That’s what I was going to… I mean…” Cullen shifted his weight, giving Dorian the room he needed to tuck himself back into his breeches – it was going to be a cold and sticky walk back to his room, that was for certain. “I could ask one of the servants to get me something from the cook. He likes me, and he often will make me a plate later in the evening. I’m sure he’ll be able to put together two from what’s already being served now. Then it could be brought to us. You could… well. You could go to your room and clean up, and then meet me in my tower?”

It was a question, not a true suggestion, which made Dorian’s brow rise. “Is that what you want, Mellitus?”

“I… yes. I have been here in your library, and you’ve made me welcome. I want you in my space too, Dorian. I want you to feel welcome there.”

“A tower with a hole in the roof? How could I refuse?” Wanting to reassure the blond that he was teasing and not being critical, he leaned up and delivered a swift kiss as he finished tying off his breeches. “I’ll be there shortly, Cullen. As it is a long walk and I don’t know if I’ll want to make the trip twice in one night, I’ll bring a pillow and blanket so I’m prepared to camp out on your floor.”

“I’d let you sleep in the bed, Dorian.”

“Really? Still without seeing my pout? Hmmm… when I finally use it, Cullen, you’ll be offering me the world.”

“I’m sure I will.”

In harmony with each other, they departed Dorian’s library and headed back to the main floor; there they parted ways.

It was only when he was alone that Dorian began to feel a rather… unpleasant emotion. Like guilt, only sharper; a knife in his heart. He regretted nothing with Cullen, but he still felt like he was being unfaithful… which he supposed he was. The real trouble was he wasn’t sure who he was being unfaithful _to_. Was it Bull, who had given him complete leave to take as many lovers as he wished in the Qunari’s absence?

Or was it Cullen, who deserved to have someone completely and utterly devoted to him; Cullen, who he would probably slip away from to see Bull as soon as the idiot returned. Bull was Bull, and there was something there…

But Cullen had asked to touch him, and then smiled like he’d been given the world when Dorian said yes. Cullen was inching his way into Dorian’s heart, and he had a sinking feeling that things were going to get messier, then fall apart entirely.

“ _Fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... since there's no way Dorian would be using Amatus yet but I wanted him to have an endearment in Tevene for Cullen, I found a Latin one that seems to fit. 'Mellitus' here is used to mean 'honey-sweet' or just 'honey'; Cullen's eyes remind him of the warm, golden substance, after all.


	7. What We Deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Cullen spend some quality time in the Commander's rather shabby room, and Dorian stays the night despite the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this earlier, but I've been dragging all day. ^.^; I may have to come back and edit this a bit later, should my weariness have caused errors that I cannot see.
> 
> I love comments, even if I don't answer them right away - they make me all warm and fuzzy. ^.^
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3

“But that’s absurd.”

“I know. Leli-“

“I mean, so ridiculous I really don’t have words.”

“Yes, and –“

“It borders on parody, really. Varghests aren’t eve- hmmm…” When Cullen’s mouth pulled away from his, the mage glared at the man – mostly to keep the foolish grin that wanted to curve his lips under wraps. “I told you not to do that all the time.”

“So you didn’t enjoy it?”

“Well I didn’t say _that_ , now did I?” Grinning, the blond shook his head, then turned it and pressed his lips to Dorian’s temple. They were lounging on his Commander’s bed, having retired there after their dinner had been consumed. Where Dorian was wrapped up in a blanket – that hole above their heads made this place absolutely frigid – Cullen had opted to stay out in the cold air. His shirt might be made out of good, warm wool that felt soft against Dorian’s cheek where it rested on the blonde’s shoulder, and his pants might be an equally sturdy material, but Dorian still couldn’t believe it. Especially since the man’s feet were _bare_ , without even any socks to cover them. Did the man want frostbite?

He wondered how many other people knew that Cullen’s feet were rather unsightly, the tops covered with a light-colored fuzz with visible veins and toes that were entirely too long. At least he did keep his toenails suitably short. Did liking that _he_ knew about his Commander’s ugly feet make him a lovesick fool? 

He knew that thinking the ugly things were strangely adorable made him as absurd as trying to herd Varghests to a new area without harming them.

“Why are you always complaining about things you enjoy?” Cullen asked, lips moving against Dorian’s skin. “It’s silly.”

“Yes, well so is sleeping beneath a hole in the roof and allowing vines and moss to grow _inside_ your room. We all have our little quirks, Mellitus.”

“I don’t allow the greenery to grow, it just… does.”

“I see. Nothing you could possibly do about it then?”

“No. Besides, I like it… they add a bit of color.”

“… you’re joking. You must be joking. Cullen, plants are meant to be outside or cultivated in little pots. They are not supposed to be growing on your walls. Nothing should grow on walls that are inside. It’s rather disgusting.”

“Well I like it.”

“You’re hopeless.” Reaching for the plate in his lap, Dorian snagged one of the last grapes that lolling about on it. Cullen apparently liked fruit; there was a whole separate but smaller plate full of it. Apple and orange slices, chunks of some melon, grapes. The mage, of course, complained bitterly that the cook never did anything half so nice for him. Cullen rightfully pointed out that he’d never thrown a fireball at the man, and that had been the end of that conversation. They’d saved the best for last, bringing the plate to bed with them. Over the course of the blonde’s story about the Varghests ruining a fort’s water supply and Leliana’s ridiculous attempts at conservation, they’d taken turns feeding each other and licking the juices off of each other’s fingers. It had been expected and terribly cliché, and Dorian had loved every moment of it.

“Eat this so I don’t have to listen to your insanity any longer. I simply can’t bear to hear it.” Though Dorian just knew the blond was rolling his eyes, Cullen did turn his head and accept the offering the mage had lifted. Instead of just taking the grape, he closed his mouth around the tips of Dorian’s fingers, his clever tongue caressing his fingers as it curled around the bit of fruit. A shiver ran through the mage, and he tucked himself a little closer to his Commander’s side as the man pulled off his fingers to eat the grape.

“There – happy?”

“So long as you don’t start waxing on about the splendor of invasive shrubbery.”

“I think I can manage that.” Anytime he heard laughter in Cullen’s voice, Dorian couldn’t help but smile. It was such a nice change from the dour, stern tone he took on when he was giving orders and a vast improvement over the tired, defeated note to his voice much of the rest of the time. He liked the notion that his Mellitus was at least a little happier around him. “Instead, maybe I’ll work on convincing you to let me share that blanket with you.”

“Finally admitting you’re cold, are you? I’m not surprised by that. I am surprised that you southerners haven’t all turned into giant icicles by now.”

“Dorian, it isn’t _that_ bad. It’s not even snowing. I almost wish it were – it looks pretty coming down into my room.”

“What do you do when it reaches your bed and melts?”

“Get wet?”

“Oh no. No no no. If I am to sleep here with any frequency, the bed must at least be moved to a location in the room where I will not be woken because of freezing water dripping on my head. No.”

“I… you…” The blond man pulled back enough that he could look down at Dorian, his brow furrowed in confusion; the expression was at odds with the small flicker of hope in his eyes. “You would sleep here again? I know you dislike the cold, and I believe this is the draftiest, coldest room in the keep.”

“I wonder why that could possibly be.”

“Dorian.”

“Yes, alright? I would happily come back and spend the night turning into a living ice sculpture so I may sleep with you.” Dorian knew he was blushing, so he turned his head to hide it and huffed in mostly pretend irritation. “Ridiculous man.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cullen’s face, and the other man wore a goofy, happy grin.

“Tomorrow I will move the bed.” The arm he had around the mage’s shoulders pulled him a little closer; Dorian happily took the excuse to bury his face in the crook of Cullen’s neck, breathing in his scent and giving a soft hum of appreciation. “I may also be able to procure some furs for you to sleep under. They are much warmer, you know.”

“They’re also ugly, and sometimes smell of dog. Of course, everything in Ferelden smells of dog and I haven’t died of it. Sometimes I have wished to, but I didn’t.”

“I realize you enjoy complaining, Dorian-“

“I do no such thing. Lies and slander.”

“But you are living in the mountains, where it’s cold. Sometimes you may have to embrace the culture of us barbaric southerners if you want to be comfortable. Furs would help.”

“Hmm. I shall think about it.”

“No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t. But I will pretend for you, Mellitus.”

“I’m not sure I should be flattered by that.”

“But you are.” Dorian smirked as he peeked up at the other man. Seeing that he was blushing lightly, he couldn’t help but laugh and begin to unwind the cocoon he’d made for himself. “Move the plate, Mellitus, so you can join me under here. I’m sure you’ll keep me warmer than some poor dead and smelly animal.” Cullen obliged quickly, setting the plate on his nightstand, and then there was a great deal of shifting as they both worked to wrap the blond up in the blanket and Dorian wrapped up in him. The mage complained several times that it needed to be tucked in tighter so none of the cold air could invade; each time, Cullen rolled his eyes and, with an indulgent smile, ‘fixed’ the blanket.

By the end of the complex maneuvers, they were no longer sitting propped against the headboard. Now they were laying down, with Dorian’s head over Cullen’s heart, the blonde’s arms wrapped firmly around him as he kept him close. The mage had thrown his leg over the other man’s, while his other wool-covered foot sought shelter _under_ Cullen’s leg. “Keep your feet away from me.” He warned Cullen, trying to hide a grin. “I’m sure they’re freezing after being exposed to the elements for so long.”

“Until you’re sleeping, I will keep them away.”

“That’s not what I asked for. Do you want me freezing and shivering in the night?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a terrible man.”

“Well if you’re cold, you’ll stay close to me.”

“That’s-“ It was so fucking sweet it almost hurt, that’s what it was. “I don’t just like you because you’re warm, Mellitus. I would stay close even I weren’t cold.”

“I’ll take no chances.”

“Impossible man.” Dorian accused, glad the other couldn’t see him smiling. A comfortable silence fell then, both of them disappearing into their own thoughts. Cullen really was warm, the kind of warm that sank into Dorian’s bones and lit a cheery fire in his heart. He felt like he’d just had a nice, hot glass of tea, or a shot of brandy; it was a wonderful feeling, almost as good as the feel of the man himself. Dorian could hear and feel his heart beating. The sound was reassuring, strong and steady… at least until the mage slipped his hand under the man’s shirt to rest on skin-to-skin on his stomach. Instantly, the beat beneath his cheek sped up a little, and Dorian’s head rose with Cullen’s chest at the sharp intake of breath the blond took. 

“I like having you here.” Cullen’s voice was sudden and soft as his own fingers began to stroke Dorian’s hair, his other arm draped around the mage’s waist. “In my room. In my bed. That’s… it sounds… I don’t mean…”

“It’s alright to enjoy things like that, you know. Tell me though – why do you like it?” Though his voice was teasing, there was also an underlying note of seriousness, and his heart trembled as he waited for the answer. This was so wrong… and so very right at the same time. He shouldn’t be pushing now, not when Bull and Sylaera were still between them.

“It makes me feel like you’re mine.” The volume of the Commander’s voice had dropped even more, until Dorian had to strain to hear the words. His hand had come to a stop in Dorian’s hair, making room for Cullen to bury his nose there. Dorian wished he could see the man’s face, but… maybe it was better this way. “I know you aren’t, not really, but…”

“Hold me tighter, Mellitus.” Promises wanted to spew forth, ones that could help reassure the Commander – but what could he say? Normally he had no trouble bending or ignoring the truth, but Cullen deserved better than glib lies. The other man obliged his request, the arm around his waist squeezing almost too tightly, and it was perfect.

“Are you truly going to stay the night?”

“Mm. I don’t want to make the trip back down to my room. While regular exercise does help maintain my absolutely flawless physique, I don’t need _that_ much. Besides. I rather like you, and being in your bed isn’t terrible.” Alright, so he would lie to Cullen, apparently, because that last bit was a vast understatement. Another habit leftover from his life in Tevinter: never let anyone know how much you cared. Caring was too easily forged into a weapon, and the risk was almost never worth the payoff.

That was why he never talked to Bull about the way he strayed, he realized suddenly. If the Qunari realized how much it hurt Dorian to see him with other people, it became a weapon that the ox could wield with near fatal results. So he continued to play games, dancing around the issue when he wasn’t avoiding it – Maker, sometimes he was as bad as all the puffed up fools he so vocally despised.

“I’m happy here.” He blurted out, desperate at that moment to break the pattern. “With you, in this bed with the freezing wind coming in from above us and greenery growing on the walls around us. I like it. Mellitus… Cullen… I like you very much. I’ve no idea what’s on the horizon for us or the Inquisition, and things are probably going to fall apart because they always do, but… for now, here with you… I’m happy.”

As soon as he was finished speaking, Dorian turned and hid his face in Cullen’s chest, fighting the urge to make some flippant remark that would render his previous words meaningless. He struggled hard to let them float out there in the universe, where they made him vulnerable; he was _better_ than he’d been in Tevinter, blast it. He could now be the kind of man who let other people know he cared. 

Even if the thought terrified him to the core, he could start peeling back the layers of his carefully crafted mask.

Cullen had gone incredibly still beneath him after his declaration, and Dorian couldn’t help but wonder if the wind and the cold really had finally frozen the man solid. If he wasn’t giving off so much glorious heat that Dorian was actually comfortable without six layers of protection between him and the air, the theory might be more plausible. Had he said too much? Had he scared Cullen off? Was the man absolutely disgusted with his foray into the world of sentimentality?

“I’m happy too.” The blond finally murmured, sending relief coursing through Dorian. No longer was he frozen; now he went almost as limp as he had under Dorian’s massaging hands, like much of his stress had eased with the mage’s admission. “I don’t deserve it, really – I don’t even come close to deserving _you_ – but I’m glad that you’re here.”

“I realize that I’m utterly fabulous and that most southerners only barely deserve to glance in my direction on occasion and marvel, but… you are an exception. Why on earth would you think you don’t deserve me, or to be happy for that matter?”

“I have… done things, Dorian. I am not a good man, and have not been one for many years. I don’t wish to speak of it,” he added, just as Dorian was opening his mouth to ask questions. “Not now. Not yet. But for many years – too many Blighted years – I let fear and hatred fester in my soul. I am beginning to let those things go, or I am trying to, but their presence has marked me, Dorian. I am not a good man. If you knew-“ Swiftly, he cut himself off, clutching the mage even tighter, pressing his face into Dorian’s hair. “I’m not a good man.” He whispered again, sounding broken and desperate.

“No, you are the best of men.” Dorian didn’t give a _shit_ about anything his Commander had done before they’d met; Cullen was a great man now. If anything, the very fact that he was trying to move beyond his past made him stronger than many, and deserving of someone _better_ than Dorian.

“I am not, Dorian. The things I have done, the things I have let happen-“

“Are in the past.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Well, I am making it that simple, Mellitus. At least for tonight.” Sensing Cullen wanted to argue, he shifted in the man’s arms. He even went so far as to pull his hands from their protected positions; as he turned and tipped his head back to meet Cullen’s eyes, he framed the man’s face. His expression was haunted and haggard, like he’d aged years before Dorian’s very eyes. “You are a good man, and you absolutely deserve me or I would not be here. I am quite well aware of my own worth, you know, and wouldn’t be with anyone who wasn’t equally wonderful. You deserve happiness, Cullen. After everything you have given the Inquisition – after everything you’ve given _her_ \- you deserve every ounce of happiness that can be wrung from this sorry world. You are a good man.” The last words were said fiercely as he held Cullen’s gaze, willing the man to believe him, if only a little.

“You… truly think that of me?” Suddenly, Dorian was absolutely furious. Not at Cullen, oh no – not when his Commander, his Mellitus argued so doggedly about whether or not he was good. Not when his voice had wavered on that last question, not when the hope and fear in his eyes was enough to make Dorian’s heart squeeze in his chest.

His anger was for the bitch who’d claimed the blonde’s heart, then done nothing to help him see his own worth. 

Maker, but he wanted to set her on fire in that moment.

Since she wasn’t there and Cullen likely wouldn’t let him in any case, Dorian struggled to find a sense of calm and tranquility. His focus should be on his Mellitus, who was worth ten of him any day, and at least twenty of Sylaera fucking Lavellan.

“I don’t think it, Cullen. I know it. With everything I have, I know you are a good man.” Tugging his face closer, Dorian caught the man’s mouth with his own, kissing him soundly. For a moment, Cullen didn’t respond, and the mage again worried that he’d gone too far and the blond wouldn’t want him anymore. Finally, after making a soft, strangled sound, he was kissing Dorian back, his hands clutching at the fabric of Dorian’s shirt.

When it ended, the mage put his forehead against Cullen’s and brushed their noses together. “For now, Mellitus, your past doesn’t matter and neither does mine. We are who we are in the moment, together. You are a good man, a great man; I am a magnificent one with exquisite taste.” The blond let out a soft puff of laughter, which Dorian considered a victory. “Another time, another day, we will delve into what has created the two marvelous men in this bed. But not tonight.”

“You will hate me when you know.”

“I won’t hate you if you don’t hate me.”

“I could never.”

“Well, we’re both safe then.”

Looking like he was trying not to smile, Cullen shook his head. “It really isn’t that simple.”

“Did I stutter earlier? I am _making_ it that simple. Tomorrow it can be complicated if that’s what you really want. Tonight, I want to sleep in your bed, in your arms without worrying about anything. If you find the arrangement unsatisfactory, I shall return to my own quarters.”

“No!” Embarrassed by his outburst and blushing deeply, Cullen looked away as he ran a hand through his hair. “I mean… I find your proposal acceptable. Stay with me, Dorian.”

By the Maker, the look in Cullen’s eyes had him thinking the man meant more than just the night, and Dorian’s heart throbbed with a sudden ache. Attraction was one thing, and friendship even better, but they were starting to wander into very, very dangerous territory. Only the day before, he’d thought a week seemed too short. Now he worried it would be just long enough that he would fall hopelessly in love, and not be able to walk away. Bull would be relatively easy to manage if it happened, but Sylaera…

Sylaera would kill him. If he didn’t set her on fire first, anyway.

Instead of answering with words, Dorian gave Cullen another light kiss, then settled back into his previous position, complete with sliding a hand under the other’s shirt. “Now that _that’s_ settled,” Dorian started, knowing it wasn’t even close to being such. Cullen still didn’t believe him, he could tell. “I wish to go to sleep. I have a very busy day tomorrow, you know.”

“Doing what?”

“Well, my first order of business will be giving you a massage. Then… well. I have a great many things to do, but most of them would fly right over your head. In the afternoon, however, I will be in my library.” He bit his lip to keep from adding that Cullen could send Kattrin with a note, if he wanted. The blond was a smart man; he’d figure it out and decide on his own.

“You don’t have to give me a massage, you know. My shoulders are fine.”

“Hmph. They are better; they are not fine. Besides, I aim to work on your entire back. Don’t protest – all you have to do is lay there. It will feel good, and your day will be better for it.”

“I… that is probably true, but… do not feel obligated.”

“I don’t, and I’m still going to give you one.”

“Why do you call _me_ impossible when you are even worse than I?”

“Because on me, my darling Mellitus, impossible looks fabulous.”

Cullen did laugh out loud at that, tipping his head back and holding Dorian close as the sound rang out. Once finished, he put his lips to Dorian’s temple, scarred lips still quirked in a smile he could feel. “Then we’ll go to sleep. Do you… mind if we leave the candles burning?”

“No.” Dorian answered, frowning as he peeked up at his Commander from under his lashes. “But why?”

“I… I told you, I do not always sleep well. Sometimes…” Cullen swallowed hard, licking his lips. “Sometimes there are nightmares. With the candles… it’s easier when there’s light if I wake from one.”

Dorian wanted so very badly to ask… but he’d been the one to insist that the past didn’t exist for the night. “Then of course we shall leave them to burn.”

“Thank you, Dorian.” The relief in his voice was palpable, and Dorian wondered if, when she was in Cullen’s bed, Sylaera made him put them out. “And thank you for coming here tonight. I… you may come any night. You are always welcome here.”

“You say that now, Mellitus, but I am a kicker and a blanket thief. You will be happy to be rid of me in the morning, when you’re cold and your shins are bruised. I don’t believe I snore, as no one has told me so, but I do have a tendency to talk in my sleep as well. And of course-“

“Dorian?”

“Yes?”

“Hush.”


	8. The First Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian wakes up earlier than he likes while Cullen sleeps in; a visitor arrives to voice displeasure at the Commander's tardiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter. XD
> 
> Again, I am very gratified and humbled by the interest people have had in this little story. As a writer, I tend to live in that horrible place where I'm convinced everything I write is the worst thing in the history of ever. XD So all the comments and kudos mean a lot to me, and I hope I don't completely disappoint you all at some point. XD
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3

Whatever nightmares Cullen had feared didn’t seem to visit – at least, Dorian hadn’t been woken by any thrashing or moaning. Hopefully that meant Cullen’s sleep had been undisturbed. As _he’d_ feared, however, he had indeed stolen almost all of the blankets. Only a small corner was still flopped over Cullen’s chest, while all the rest were wrapped around the mage to form a cocoon. He might have felt badly about it, except his Mellitus was still radiating heat like he was a dragon trapped in another form.

It was strange, watching the other man sleep. He would have expected that peaceful look he’d seen descend on occasion, or at least something slack and ridiculous looking. Instead, there was still tension in the muscles on his face and a faint wrinkle between his brows. Perhaps his dreams were more troubled than Dorian had hoped. It took a moment to wrestle his hand free of the tightly wrapped blankets, but once he had, he smoothed his thumb over those worry lines. After that, it only made sense to brush his fingers over the man’s forehead, then run them through coarse blond hair. 

“This is not a bad way to wake.”

“I make everything fabulous, didn’t you know?” Cullen still hadn’t opened his eyes, but there was a sweet, sleepy smile on his lips. Dorian liked the rough, raspy sound of his voice and the way the other man snuggled closer and held him a little tighter.

“I had an inkling.” Suddenly, without warning, Cullen moved. Turning more swiftly than a just-woken man had any right to, he draped himself on top of Dorian, trapping the mage beneath him. A solid, deliciously warm weight, his Commander smiled down at him and put their foreheads together. “You took all the blankets.”

“I told you I would.”

“You kicked me mercilessly.”

“Again, Mellitus, you were warned.”

“You don’t snore, however. I would have found that more irritating than listening to you spout largely incoherent magical theories.”

“I did no such thing! Even in my sleep, I would not waste my thoughts on someone so utterly incapable of understanding them.”

“So you say.”

“I should scorch you with a fireball for that tone of voice, Mellitus.”

“Threaten if you must.” Cullen’s lips met his in a deep, rather thorough kiss. Both of them were half-hard, Dorian noticed. Though it was too late to fully explore that if he wanted to give Cullen that massage, he still rolled his hips upward. Both groaned as their cocks met and rubbed together, the blond briefly grinding into him. Then he broke the kiss and gave a rueful chuckle, twitching his hips away. “Mercy, Dorian, please. Morning muster happens soon, and I’d rather not have my troops giggling and whispering about the bulge in my trousers.”

“Fine, fine. But you started it, I’ll have you know.” Before the other could protest, he delivered a quick kiss of his own. Once it was over, he pushed playfully at the blonde’s shoulders, doing his best to scowl instead of smile foolishly. “Now off, you muscled brute. You’ve nearly crushed me.” Grinning in a way that Dorian was sure meant trouble for him, Cullen let even more of his weight settle on the not-displeased mage.

“So you don’t like it when we lay this way? If that’s the case, I suppose I shouldn’t do this again.” His honey-brown eyes were smoldering, and that smug, arrogant look on his face that said he knew exactly how Dorian really felt.

And Dorian was an absolute fool for melting.

“Why are you always putting words in my mouth?”

“Because if I didn’t, I would never get to hear you protest, and I might think you truly annoyed.”

Spluttering indignantly at the unfair accuracy of _that_ , Dorian fought the urge to grab hold of Cullen when the blond rolled off of him. He certainly didn’t miss the other’s weight and warmth as he settled at Dorian’s side again. Not at all, and he most definitely wasn’t contemplating pouting at his Commander until he returned. That initial pout needed to be saved for a true emergency. When Cullen’s hand began to card through his dark hair, he realized he’d made the right decision.

Once his head was settled on his Commander’s chest again, he noticed the lacing on the man’s shirt had loosened, and he could see a smattering of golden-blond hair. Giving a soft hum of intrigue, he nuzzled his nose into that exposed vee; a muffled noise rose from the other man that might have been a laugh or a groan. “Dorian, you’re making it very hard to get out of bed.”

“Since it’s not time to actually _do_ that, I’m glad you’re not in a hurry to run off.”

“Normally I rise earlier than this. There is much work to be done for the Inquisition.”

“Piles of it, and waiting just down that ladder I bet.” Looking up at the hole in the ceiling, he noted the near complete lack of light and gave a snort. “Disgusting hour to be up and about, you know. You really should get more sleep.”

“Sleep is not always a refuge, Dorian.”

“So sunny and cheerful in the morning. Good! I was afraid things would get all dreary and maudlin.” Though sitting up dislodged the hand still stroking his hair, Dorian still did it and then slapped the man lightly on the chest. “Take off your shirt and roll over.”

“You could feed me breakfast first.”

“Yes, yes. You’re very clever. Shirt off, Mellitus. I know you muscle-bound brutes aren’t very gifted when it comes to using your brains, you surely remember what I said last night. You need a massage, and I am just the man to give it.”

There was that indulgent smile again, like Cullen believed him absolutely ridiculous and enjoyed it. When he groaned and pushed himself into a sitting position, Dorian looked away and tried not to look as eager as he was to see the man shirtless. Still, out of the corner of his eye, he watched as his Commander peeled the garment off. Muscles bunched and relaxed, and the mage felt his mouth go dry as he grappled with the urge to stare. At first he was grateful when Cullen rolled over onto his stomach, presenting his back for inspection and a rub down.

Then he actually took in said back, and it was just as interesting as that half-glimpsed chest.

His Commander was clearly not slacking despite no longer being on the front line of battle; he was wonderfully sculpted, with strong shoulders and a slightly tapered waist. That led Dorian’s eyes down the man’s spine to his lower back, and then to where his skin disappeared into the waist of his pants and _sweet Maker, don’t think about what’s below that, Dorian, or you’ll ruin this._. Taking a deep breath to try and center himself, the mage thought about what he wanted to accomplish here. This was not about sex or seduction; this was for Cullen, because the man was clearly stressed beyond all belief. This was to help his Mellitus, not make him late for whatever a ‘morning muster’ was because of any naked antics. Even if those antics would likely be beyond compare.

“With that part out of the way, I can begin.” He didn’t want to abandon his happy, warm cocoon, but he forced himself to shed it before straddling the other man’s back. “I didn’t bring my oils-”

“You have oils?”

“Staff work is hard on the hands, Cullen. Sometimes they cramp, and I prefer to use scented oils as I try to work them out.”

“A one-handed massage doesn’t sound very effective.”

“It isn’t.” Dorian agreed, resting his hands on the man’s shoulders. “But it’s better than nothing.”

“If I am available when these cramps occur, you may come to me. I would be happy to assist.”

“I… well. That’s very generous of you. I shall consider the offer, but at the moment my focus is on you. As I was saying before you very rudely interrupted, I didn’t bring them. It isn’t an utter tragedy, but in the future I shall leave one or two bottles here so they are available. It will make the massage better, I promise you, and I shall even let you pick your favorite scent. I also wanted to ask… may I use a bit of magic to help matters, or would you prefer if I did not?”

“… what sort of magic?”

“Nothing too flashy, I promise you.” Once again, there was an almost unnoticeable tensing that occurred; Cullen had a problem with magic, and that did not bode well for… whatever this was. “Mostly some extra heat to help relax your muscles. Again, it’s not necessary, and if you would prefer-”

“No, it is fine.” Cullen interrupted, appearing to make an effort to let go of the tension. “You may do as you like.”

“You may regret such an open-ended offer in the future, Mellitus.” Before the man could reply, Dorian went to work, focusing his attention on the muscles beneath his fingers. Even though he’d had one only two days before, Cullen’s shoulders and neck were again an absolute tapestry of knots; scowling at the amount of stress it would take to cause such a thing, Dorian went about his task with great gusto. There was more pressure behind his fingers this time, and he called on his magic to bring heat to them. It trickled into Cullen’s skin and then went deeper, sinking into muscle tissue and bringing a level of relief the blond seemed to appreciate. He was again very vocal in that appreciation, groaning and sighing and mumbling words that Dorian couldn’t quite catch.

With every motion of the mage’s hands, Cullen relaxed further and further. When he started to go limp, Dorian worried that perhaps this wasn’t the best idea first thing in the morning; his Mellitus wouldn’t be pleased if he fell back asleep and missed any part of his busy day. Too late to stop now, however, so he put that thought aside as he took his attention away from Cullen’s shoulders and moved lower and lower.

By the time he reached Cullen’s lower back, his Commander was quiet once more, and Dorian suspected that he was indeed dozing. He’d scooted back as he went, and was now perched on the back of the other man’s thighs, trying to ignore the fact that his cock was now standing at attention, ready to salute his Commander. Sex was not the goal here, he scolded himself again, working at the kinks that surrounded the lower part of Cullen’s spine. All he was trying to do was get the sexy body under his to relax before the blond crippled his back completely. To help ignore his own body’s reaction, he began to think out a schedule in his head, one that would take into account Cullen’s disgusting penchant for waking at a decent hour.

That got him through those last minutes, thankfully, without embarrassing himself. When he’d done all he could do without oil and an amount of magic Cullen would surely object to, Dorian scooted up a bit and draped himself along the man’s back; hopefully, he would be decent enough not to mention the erection now pressing against him. “Mellitus.” Dorian whispered in his ear, nuzzling the blond gently. “I hope you haven’t fallen asleep.”

“Not ‘sleep.” Cullen answered groggily, sounding like he was pouting as well as shaking himself out of slumber. “Awake. Very awake. Lots of it.”

“Mmmm. I’m glad you’re ‘lots of’ awake, because it is, regrettably, time to face the day.” Dorian’s timing had always been impeccable even when he wasn’t trying; almost the moment he stopped speaking, Skyhold’s bell rang the hour, and a horn player began the call that would bring most of the keep’s inhabitants out of their beds.

“Maker’s breath, I’m late.” Cullen didn’t even try to move after the words, seeming content to lay there with Dorian resting on top of him.

“How could you possibly be late? Most other people have enough sense not to be up at this absolutely awful hour. Who would know you’ve only just gotten out of bed?”

His timing here was just as perfect – disappointingly so, unfortunately. They both heard one of the doors below slam open, and Cullen groaned and hid his face in the pillow. “Her. She’ll know.”

“Cullen! I have been waiting for you for… Cullen? Are you here?” That clipped Nevarran accent was one he would know anywhere, and Dorian moaned along with the blond beneath him. He really didn’t want to see or speak to the Seeker, the one he could tell vaguely disapproved of him… but he didn’t really want her seeing his Mellitus half-naked either.

“Though it pains me to say it,” he murmured, mouth still at Cullen’s ear. “I will go and fend off the dread dragon Pentaghast while you get ready. Should I tell her to wait for you, or will you be headed off somewhere else once you’re dressed?”

“No, tell her I’ll be down shortly. We still have time to spar if I am quick.”

“Alright then. Though I don’t know why you’d spar with the woman. She’s absolutely terrifying. Even Varric is afraid of her.”

“Varric is no such thing.”

“I think he is, actually. He’s just very good at hiding it.”

“Varric is not frightened of Cassandra. Now go down there before she comes up here.” Cullen’s voice was full of laughter again, which Dorian warmed Dorian from the inside out.

“I’m going, Mellitus.” After kissing the man’s cheek, he reluctantly pulled away and exited the bed, yawning as he ambled to the ladder. Part of him knew he should probably try to hide his arousal, but… another part of him wanted _someone_ to know that he and Cullen were… something. They were something, and he wanted someone to know.

Cassandra would do in a pinch, he supposed.

When he swung down the ladder with ease, he was pleased to hear the little gasp of surprise that left the Seeker’s lips. Her eyes were huge in her face, and she looked to be both pale and blushing at the same time. “D-dorian! I… you… what are you doing here? Where is Cullen?”

“Cullen, my dear woman, is up in his dismal little room getting ready. I’d apologize for keeping him from you, but… I’m not at all sorry.” As he leaned against the ladder, he made sure to look as smug and pleased with himself as he felt – it would irritate the woman, after all. “In fact, I delighted in it, despite not knowing he had an early rendezvous with you. If I’d known, I’d have enjoyed it even more.”

“Dorian.” Unlike when his Commander said his name, there was no laughter; no, Cassandra was quite obviously grinding her teeth, and her voice was nearly a growl. “What are those on your neck?”

“Oh, these old things?” Lifting his head, he let the Seeker get a better look at the marks that Cullen had left, unable to help that bit of preening. “What do you think they are, Seeker? Don’t get me wrong, I’d be happy to explain, but I need to know exactly where to begin. I know you read that dreadful serial – Swords and Shields, isn’t it? – but have you actually _done_ any of the things detailed in those naughty pages?”

“Dorian! You have no right, and… and of course I have. Many times. With many different people. Stop looking at me that way! I’m not lying!” 

“The way you blush is adorable. Are you sure you don’t need me to educate you at all in the way of physical romance? After all, if you’ve had so many partners, you should know _exactly_ what they are.”

“Dorian, this is… you can’t…” Reaching out, she grabbed hold of Dorian’s collar, twisting it in her hand to make it harder for him to get away. “Cullen, I am taking the mage out for some air.” She called up, the blush on her cheeks getting even darker. “I will meet you there. Take your time.” Her eyes went back to Dorian, a fierce scowl on her lips. “We have _much_ to discuss.”

Like Bull and Cullen, Cassandra had muscles and was not afraid to use them. She hauled Dorian out of the Commander’s tower with ease, slamming the door shut behind them. He was a little worried that she was about to unsheathe her sword and start whacking away… but when she released him, she made no move to do so. Instead, she turned to face the mountains that ringed the keep, leaning against the battlements like an old woman, head hung low.

“This is a terrible idea.”

“I know.”

“There is no way this can end well.”

“I know.”

“Whatever agreement you have with The Iron Bull, it will not matter here. The Inquisitor does not share.”

“Not other people, no. She does an excellent job of sharing herself with anyone she takes a fancy to. He deserves better.”

“And you think _you_ can give it to him?”

“I… well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Sighing, he went to her side, propping his elbows on the cold stone. “He’s a good man, you know.”

“Of course I know that. He has been… sometimes he reminds me of Anthony, my brother. Most of my family is nothing I wish to brag about-” 

“I know; it’s the one thing we have in common.”

“Yes. If I could choose my own family, Cullen would be in it. That is why I worry about him.”

“I can understand that, I suppose. Now about your little make-believe family… Varric would be head of the household, yes? Fathering little Tethras babies with noble Pentaghast blood?” He was gratified by the way she instantly turned a dark shade of red, gasping almost violently.

“Dorian! I want no such thing. The dwarf is despicable, though his writing may redeem him a little. Take back that insinuation now, or I will end you.”

“The more you deny, the more I believe you’re lying.”

“Take it back.”

“I don’t believe I shall.”

By the time Cullen came out of the tower a few moments later, Dorian was in a headlock, tugging ineffectively at Cassandra’s arm as he tried to break away.

“Take it back!”

“Never!” he answered, unable to help laughing when he saw the look of utter bewilderment on Cullen’s face. “Mellitus, your friend is trying to - gah! Not the hair!”

“Then take back your ridiculous accusations!” With Cassandra now digging one knuckle into his head, mussing his hair irredeemably even as her grip around his neck tightened, Dorian knew he should submit. He should submit and agree never to tease her on the subject again, then hobble away in his shameful defeat.

“I shall not! You should just admit it – there is no shame in love, you know. Argh! Stop pulling my hair, you bloodthirsty wench! Mellitus, make her desist!”

“Alright, that’s enough.” There was laughter rumbling in Cullen’s voice and a warm smile on his face as he waded in to end the little scuffle. “Cassandra, let him go.” He ordered, managing to at least pull her hand away from Dorian’s hair, though her arm remained around his neck.

“But he said-” Quickly stopping herself, bright red again, the Seeker shook her head. “He is trying to start gossip about me. Gossip that has no basis in fact.”

“Dorian?”

“I was only having a bit of fun. There was no reason for her to get so excited over it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be able to breathe freely again.”

“I shall let you go, mage, once you admit you are wrong about… about this.”

“Fine! I’m wrong. So sorry to upset you Seeker. Maker, everything’s turning black… stars in front of my eyes… no, I’m too young and too pretty to die this way…”

“Oh stop whining so.” Cassandra finally let him go, snorting in disgust. “I did not even harm you.”

“Tell that to my hair.”

“I think it is an improvement.”

“Oho, now who’s slinging arrows? Perhaps I should respond with violence as well. Fireball or lightning, Seeker?”

“Maker’s breath, you’re both acting like children. Cassandra, ignore him. Dorian, stop trying to irritate her.”

The two combatants glared at each other… but Dorian noticed the beginnings of a grin on the Seeker’s face. She didn’t hate him half so much as she pretended, he was sure. “Hmph. If we are done with this foolishness, you were supposed to meet me some time ago, Cullen. I was concerned for you.”

“Oh. I… thank you. Everything is fine.” The blond was shooting Dorian a rather nervous look, which he found intensely interesting; his Commander was hiding something from him.

“Should I assume you will continue to be late in the mornings, so I do not worry?”

“Uh… I… that is…”

“Yes, you may Seeker. I refuse to let Cullen leave the bed until the bell and horn force me to. Do you think you can handle that, until… well.” Awkwardness descended, and that little smile turned into a concerned frown. The blond was tense again as he wrapped an arm around Dorian’s shoulders; when he looked up, his Commander has his eyes closed as he pressed his lips to Dorian’s temple once more.

“I believe I will be able to manage, so long as he meets me soon after. If not, there will be no time for breakfast before the morning muster.”

“What _is_ that? Some sort of dance?”

“Your ignorance does you no credit, Dorian. Why don’t you come find out?”

“As marvelous an offer that is, Cassandra, I must decline. I have at least an hour of sleep left in me, and then I must go about my day. We sinister Tevinter mages have a lot to do, you know.”

“You are as sinister as a bunch of daisies.”

“Fireball or lightning?”

“Enough!” Cullen interrupted, shaking his head as his shoulders shook in contained laughter. “Dorian, if you wish to go back to my bed to get the sleep you claim to need, I do not mind. I will see you tonight, yes?”

“Of course. Where would you like to meet, Mellitus?”

“I am unsure… I’ll send Kattrin with a message later, if that is alright, so we may decide.”

Warmth unfurled in Dorian’s chest as he grinned up at the blond. “That is an excellent idea. She’s such a darling young woman. Now go… play with your metal sticks.”

“Swords, Dorian. They are _swords_.”

“I know, but you’re so sexy when you’re irritated with me.”

Rolling his eyes, Cullen leaned in and gave him a swift kiss; the mage couldn’t help but notice the nervous look he sent Cassandra on pulling back. To her credit, the Seeker kept her face bland, not an ounce of judgment touching her sculpted features. “Until tonight, Dorian.”

“Until then, Mellitus. Seeker, make sure he really does eat breakfast.”

“I always do. May we please be off, Cullen? We’ve wasted much of the morning already.” These two were absolutely mad – the morning hadn’t even really started yet! The sun had not even crested the mountains! But there Cullen was, nodding along with a chagrined look, agreeing with her.

“Madness. But go on, have fun trying to kill each other. I am off to seek my bed. Or Cullen’s, as luck would have it.” The Seeker _giggled_ , because she was the most sappy romantic he’d ever met beneath all her bluster. Dorian winked at her, pressed a kiss to the corner of Cullen’s mouth, then turned to leave them. As he entered the tower and the two warriors began to walk away, he could hear them talking.

“Cullen, you must tell me how this happened. Leave out no details!”

Yes, a romantic. One important to Cullen; a friend and confidant. And even though it was ridiculous, he was glad that someone else knew. It was real now, not hidden away in the dark as so many of his affairs had been. Cullen had claimed him in front of her, and that almost made him believe that this wouldn’t end in utter disaster.

Without him meaning for it to happen, a little bit of hope took root in the mage's heart.


	9. A Humble Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian wishes to learn how to heal, but asking for help is a bit more difficult than he'd assumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> I got called into work today - some of my kids are participating in a Drug Quiz Show, which should be a lot of fun - so I don't anticipate being able to write anything later. Here's a quick thing so I don't feel bad about it. XD
> 
> Thanks for reading, and for the comments and kudos!

Dorian had always freely admitted to his magical prowess – if one was skilled at something, why deny it? He was powerful enough to employ flash dramatics and still finish a fight, and his knowledge of magical theory allowed him to perform feats that others might consider impossible. Yes, he was a font of wisdom and magical strength, and he’d never felt ashamed of his skills.

That justified arrogance made it very hard to approach Solas the way he wanted to. Asking for help was _not_ in his repertoire.

So he lingered unobtrusively just outside the part of the rotunda the apostate elf had claimed. He flattered and flirted with several dignitaries in the main hall, his eyes ever on the doorway that he really needed to go through. He dodged a few groping hands, stole a few odds and ends from the serving plates still on the tables from breakfast, and did his best to bolster his courage. He was a very brave and wonderful man, but even that had its limits. He and Solas didn’t much care for each other, after all; would the elf even be willing to help him?

Just when he thought he might finally be able to get himself into the rotunda, Solas himself appeared at the door. He was wearing that strange expression he got sometimes, where his face was blank and serene but somehow conveyed an irritated scowl as well. Perhaps some noise had drawn his attention and ire, or perhaps he needed something from one of the workman.

“Dorian, do you require something, or do you intend to haunt my doorway for the foreseeable future?” Drat. He’d been caught out.

“No, no. I was just admiring the architecture. Skyhold is a wonder, isn’t it? There’s no reason for me to haunt your doorway. Honestly, Solas the things you- wait!” With little patience for the way Dorian tended to ramble, the elf had already turned away to go back into his study. “There may have been one teensy thing, now that I think on it.”

Forward motion paused, Solas looked over his shoulder and cocked the most eloquent eyebrow Dorian had ever seen. He’d have to practice that – his own eyebrow only said half as much. Sighing, he lifted a hand and ran it through his carefully neatened hair, hoping none of it had fallen out of place.

“Do you have a moment? I had something I wanted to ask you.”

“By all means. Please come in.”

Dorian followed after the other man, trying not to scowl when Solas took a seat in his chair, fingers steepled as he waited for the request. He looked every inch a noble of some kind, possibly even a king – Lavellan could take lessons for when she sat in her little throne and judged away.

“Well. I had a favor… you certainly don’t need to agree. I don’t wish to impose – bit of a lie, isn’t it, when people say that? Still, I would hate to interrupt… whatever is you do in here too much.” There went that eyebrow again, and Dorian sensed he didn’t have too many more words before the elf tossed him out on his behind.

“I want to learn how to heal.” Maker, this was embarrassing, and his cheeks reddened now that the request was out there.

“Ask one of the Circle mages.” Solas replied almost instantly, sharp eyes fixed on Dorian with mild interest. Damnation, he hadn’t meant to rouse any curiosity; he just wanted to learn. Still, he snorted at Solas’ suggestion, trying not to sneer in disgust.

“Please. Most of them can barely manage their own power. What they can manage, they’re afraid of. Such a teacher would be most unsuitable for me. With my magnificent-” Solas was so deeply unimpressed by him in that moment that he mage abandoned his flowery speech, afraid the elf would dismiss him out of hand if he didn’t. “We both know that Circle mages only just have any grasp on what they’re doing.”

“We are agreed there, yes.” The smallest hint of a smile, one corner of the elf’s mouth lifting.

“I don’t want training from anyone so raw; I will need someone with skill. Healing does not come naturally to me; that combined with a distinct lack of healers able to teach the discipline in Tevinter made me abandon the study of it.”

“Yet now you wish to learn.” From anyone else, that might have been a question; from Solas it was a statement of fact.

“Yes. Now I wish to learn.”

“From me.”

“From you. If you are willing.”

“Not from Vivienne or another Circle mage.”

“Vivenne might be able to teach me, but we’d start discussing fashion or begin sniping at each other, and nothing would ever get done. You and I may not be the best of friends-”

“Certainly not.”

“-but I respect your grasp of magic and your power. Will you teach me?”

“Why do you wish to learn?”

That was the price, Dorian realized, or at least the start of it. Solas was a curious one, always seeking knowledge; the keen light in his eyes meant he currently wanted to learn about Dorian. There was no dodging or ducking the question… but maybe he didn’t need to tell the entire truth.

“Cullen and I were discussing it over chess the other day.” Not quite true, but there had been a board in the room, and they had played that night. “He pointed out that the Inquisitor rarely takes more than one mage with her.” Utter tripe, though the part about Lavellan was true. “She often takes us into the wilderness, far from any help the Inquisition might offer. If someone were to become ill, or was gravely injured after we ran out of healing potions, I would not be able to render aid.” True, but it had nothing to do with the real reason. Solas seemed to know that, because he sat back in his chair again, that not-quite-there sneer firmly in place.

“Besides, I spend the most time with Cullen out of anyone who is a mage. If he were to get sick and need a healer, I think he would prefer it to be me. He’s a key part of the Inquisition, and certainly should not languish in a sick-bed.”

“So it is for the Commander you wish to learn to heal.”

“That isn’t… I mean… well, that’s not entirely…” Leliana should bring Solas to any questionings she needed to do. That eyebrow was simply impossible to deny; it made him feel like a child again, desperate to prove he did have some idea of how the world worked. “Oh alright. Yes. That’s why I want to learn.”

“Hmm.” What did _that_ mean? “I’m not sure you are suited for the practice. I myself have only a rudimentary knowledge and limited ability in that area.”

“Coming from you, ‘rudimentary’ and ‘limited’ translate into more skill than most here could claim.” There was that tiny smile again, and Dorian started to hope.

“That may indeed be true. Be that as it may, I’m not sure you could learn what I have to teach.”

“You could let me try before you dismiss my ability.”

“Perhaps. I suppose that would only be fair. If after a few lessons I determine you are unable?”

“Then I shall leave, never to darken your doorway again.”

“Hmm.”

“That’s a noise, not an answer.” Andraste’s ass, he wanted to shave off that damned eyebrow.

“Your impatience is not a good sign, Dorian. Still, I agree to your request, for now. If it becomes a waste of my time and yours, the lessons will end.”

“Agreed. There are far more pleasant ways to waste time.”

“Indeed.” The smile was a little bigger this time, but gone more quickly than usual. “I do not have what I require at the moment. If you are committed to this course of action, we will begin tomorrow. I assume this time is not inconvenient for you.”

“No. I’m not the earliest riser, but I would like to do this in the mornings.”

“Then tomorrow, at this time, meet me in the garden.”

“The _garden_?”

“Yes. Please come ready to listen and ask questions. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to return to my studies.”

He was being dismissed – though it almost seemed framed as a suggestion, Dorian had no doubt that he was expected to leave. “Of course. Thank you, Solas.”

“You are welcome. Good day.”

“Yes. Quite.”

With his errand completed and a jaunty little bounce to his step, Dorian didn’t leave the way he’d come in. He went to the steps that led to the library, taking them two and three at a time; while the books there were largely useless, there might be one or two that weren’t completely hopeless. If he could learn a bit of the theory behind healing, he might be able to convince Solas that he wasn’t completely incompetent. If the elf refused to help him, he would _have_ to go to Vivienne, which was a poor second option. No, he would simply have to prove himself.

Then if Cullen ever got the sniffles or was run through by a metal stick, Dorian would not have to stand by uselessly.


	10. Beneath the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Cullen forces Dorian out into the cold, things get a bit more serious than the mage was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hng. Not sure about this one, tbh. I wanted more smut, but then it got so long... I dunno. XD Smut next chapter, I promise!
> 
> Thanks so very much for reading and commenting and the kudos! You're all delightful people. <3

“Why _exactly_ are we out here Mellitus?”

“Because the top of this tower has the best view of the sunset in all of Skyhold.”

“Perhaps, but it’s also cold.”

“But beautiful.”

“But _cold_.”

Dorian couldn’t see Cullen, but he was sure the blond was rolling his eyes. “If you’d dress properly, you might not be so cold. You did agree to come here with me.” That was true, but rather beside the point in the mage’s opinion. After a quick meal in the library, he and the blond had gone first to the wall, then to one of the better constructed, more finished towers. He hadn’t complained about the walk, but having to climb three separate ladders to get to the top had gotten him a little irritated. The view had been worth it in the end, but as the sun continued to vanish behind one of the mountain peaks, the chill in the air was becoming more pronounced. 

“I come here whenever I can.” Cullen told him quietly, mouth close to Dorian’s ear. The mage was leaning against the wall, while Cullen was at his back, hands resting on the cold stone at either side of the darker man. “It’s best at sunrise or sunset, but the view is magnificent at any time. Soon the stars will be out.”

“At which point it will be even _colder_.”

“Dorian…” There was no laughter in his Commander’s voice – his name had come out as a sigh that wasn’t quite born of irritation. This was a serious moment, and he hadn’t realized it fast enough. He’d clearly misstepped with his response, and he didn’t like the prick of guilt he felt… or the way his back went as cold as the rest of him when Cullen stepped away from him.

“Mellitus, I apologize. It is beautiful. Is that the only reason you come?”

“No.” Cullen answered simply, and Dorian felt his heart sink. He’d just ruined the night and possibly everything. Why did he always have to be so flippant? Why couldn’t he just have a heartfelt conversation like a normal, healthy, well-adjusted person? He could pretend to be one, surely, if he tried hard enough.

Suddenly, a warm weight draped over his shoulders, and ugly fur was tickling his ears and cheeks. Cullen, he realized, had given him his cloak. That awful, horrible, unsightly cloak that he hated so very much.

The fur didn’t smell of dog.

No, it smelled like his Mellitus, and was still warm from the incredible body heat the man radiated. Even if it was an eyesore, the offering made Dorian smile so widely it hurt his cheeks. He hadn’t ruined everything after all.

“Thank you, Mellitus.”

“You are welcome. Well it stop your complaining?”

“Hmm… for the most part, I think. Though my back is still a bit chilled.” That was all it took to get Cullen to step close to him again. This time, he didn’t court frostbite by setting his hands on the stone wall; instead his arms wrapped tightly around Dorian’s waist. The man had, thankfully, removed all those bits of armor he wore during the day; otherwise, he’d be all pointy and cold, giving Dorian more to complain about, not less.

“Better?” There was that slightly raspy voice, right by his ear once more, and all was right with the world.

“Infinitely. Now tell me why you come here. I do want to know.”

“I’m not sure I can find the words, but… I’ll try, for you.” The last rays of the sun were swallowed by the mountains, and the sky was swiftly turning to a velvety blue-black, stars twinkling above them. It really was a superb view, and with Cullen’s awful cloak and Cullen himself wrapped around him, Dorian almost couldn’t feel the cold.

“Everything feels so clear up here.” His Commander’s voice was hushed, reverent… and just a bit distant. “When it’s just me and the elements, I can _think_. It’s easier to forget the p-… everything seems easier. The wind is so cold sometimes, like a knife… everything else seems to get cut away. How could I feel anything but wonder, looking at all this? And we’re all so _small_ , Dorian. How could even Corypheus destroy this? The Maker has given us such a beautiful world… He would not let it fall so easily. When I’m here, I know that our struggles are temporary. We are in the Maker’s hands, and He loves us, even as we disappoint him over and over. Looking at what He has wrought here, it… it…”

“It feels eternal.” Dorian murmured, suddenly looking at the shadowy mountains before him with new eyes. “And you worried you could not find the words, Mellitus.” Though he’d seen a future where Corypheus had surely brought ruin even to the mountains, Cullen was right. Looking at the majesty before them, it was hard to see how any mortal life – even one as twisted as Corypheus – could destroy it. The view before his eyes made it easier to believe the Inquisition had been chosen for this, to defend the Maker’s world. It was easy to allow hope, the sneaky bastard, to steal into one’s soul.

Despite all of that, however, Dorian had _not_ forgotten the little stumble in Cullen’s speech. Folding his arms over his Commander’s, he gave a squeeze and leaned back into the man’s solid frame. He wasn’t sure how the blond stayed so warm when the wind was blustering around them, but he was thankful. This discussion was not one he wanted to have while his teeth chattered.

“Are you keeping something from me, Mellitus? I don’t know for certain, of course, but I have a feeling… is something wrong?”

The long, loaded silence that came next was an answer in and of itself. When Cullen’s breath finally left him all at once in one explosive exhale that puffed across Dorian’s ear and ruffled his hair, he thought the man was ready to talk. Instead, Cullen buried his face in the crook of Dorian’s neck, holding him so tightly that the mage was having a small breathing problem. He said nothing about it, however, only lifted one hand to run his fingers through the blond hair now mingling with black and red fur. His Mellitus was trembling slightly, only just enough for Dorian to detect it… and the mage suddenly found himself feeling afraid for the other man.

It was so hard to wait, especially when the silence went on and on and on. He wanted to poke and prod and push and tease until Cullen told him everything just to shut him up… but his Mellitus was owed more respect than that. He would let the man come to it in his own time; if that didn’t happen this night, he would wait. He would wait until Cullen _wanted_ to tell him.

“If you’re not ready, that’s fine. Just… I want to know if you’re alright, or if I need to worry about you. Cassandra is worried, it seems, and I demand the chance to do so as well if it’s warranted. Being far more fabulous than she is, my concern will do you twice as much good at the very least.”

He could feel a small chuckle against his neck; at least he hoped it was a chuckle and not something else. “I don’t believe that’s how concern works.” Cullen’s voice was strained, but at least he’d spoken. “Though I thank you for the thought.” Silence again, and Dorian felt just a little bit like screaming. The man was still holding him too tight, but the trembling has subsided, or at least he couldn’t feel it anymore. He wanted to fix this, to take away whatever was hurting his Mellitus, because something obviously was. If only Cullen would _tell_ him…

But even then, there might not be anything he could fix. Life was so seldom that simple, no matter how much he tried to pretend it could be.

“I… you have to know… there isn’t… Maker, this is harder than it should be.”

“Cullen, Mellitus, you don’t have to-”

“No. I… I do. It was so easy with Sylaera.” Jealousy he wasn’t sure he had the right to feel coiled inside him with the swiftness of a snake preparing to strike. It was a very close thing, but through sheer force of will, he managed to keep his mouth shut so nothing horrible he couldn’t take back spewed forth.

“I _had_ to tell her, for the sake of the Inquisition. It’s easier when… when I have to. And she isn’t… you’re a mage. The things I’ve let happen, Dorian, the things I’ve _felt_.”

“Having grown up in Tevinter… I have seen what the wrong magic can do in the wrong hands, you know. I can understand ho-”

“You understand nothing!” Cullen’s voice was harsh and angry, but there was also a note frenzied despair. “How can I make you understand?”

“I don’t know, Mellitus. You could start by simply talking about it.” Before Cullen could answer, however, Dorian managed to turn in his arms. It was a bit tricky, but enough of his ribs had been broken by the blonde’s embrace that he managed. There was so little light left to them; only the stars, the moon, and a few flickering torches let him see anything at all. His Commander’s face had that haggard, aged look again, like there was something sucking all vitality and life out of him, like he was fading away beneath the weight of his burden right in front of Dorian’s eyes.

That little hint of fear went through him again, and he lifted his hands to cup Cullen’s cheeks, leaning up the scant inches that separated them in height to put his forehead to the other man’s. It was such a familiar, soothing position now; it was theirs, and even if nothing else came of this, he knew would never stand with another man this way. “You are a good man, Cullen Rutherford. I haven’t known many, so when I see them I can recognize them; they stand out starkly against all the rest. I will never believe you are not a good man, no matter what you tell me of your past. I haven’t exactly been the spectacular, awe-inspiring man you’ve gotten to know either. There were times when I was merely spectacular.”

The slightest crinkling around the man’s eyes let Dorian know there might be a small smile on those scarred lips. “Now. Since… whatever is troubling you seems too big to confess all at once, just tell me part of it. Tell me anything, Mellitus. Tell me something so I know how concerned to be.”

“I no longer take lyrium.”

The admission was almost instant, if a bit nervous and frantic, and inside, Dorian was the smallest bit terrified. If that was the least and easiest thing to say, what else could there be? What demons haunted his poor Commander? Beyond that, the implications of that small sentence were staggering. Cassandra was right to be worried, and he had every cause to do the same. He’d seen mages grow dependent on the stuff, and to think of Cullen the same way was… no. He had to keep control; he couldn’t be afraid. Panic would only make the blond worry about him, so he had to remain as calm and even as he possibly could in order to help his Mellitus, even if inside he was drowning in a sea of fear.

“No longer… how long _did_ you take it?”

“Since I was eighteen. When you take your vows, you’re given the first draft of lyrium; it gives us our abilities.” Cullen’s eyes shut against the memories, and the trembling in his limbs began anew; Dorian realized that simply talking about it was likely enough to trigger at least a small craving for the stuff. “It’s why we can fight mages so well. In Tevinter, do they…?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Dorian snorted in amused disgust. “And give them actual weapons to fight the Magisters? I should think not. Most of them are barely competent with their tin trappings and metal sticks.” Another little crinkle around the eyes, another small sign of victory. “I’ve never heard of any Templar in Tevinter receiving lyrium. I didn’t know… well. The theory behind it all is fascinating. The practice…” The results of lyrium addiction and abuse were never good, and his fear for Cullen was growing steadily, settling in his chest like a cold weight that threatened to suffocate him. Calm, Pavus, he reminded himself – he needed to stay calm.

“Mellitus, this could _kill_ you.” Alright, so true calm was perhaps just a bit out of his reach, but at least his voice was mostly steady. “Is it… did the Inquisitor ask you to give it up?”

“No. It is what I want. When Cassandra recruited me, I… I made the decision. I gave the Templar order _everything_ ; it got my best, even when I was at my worst.” There was a note of bitterness in his voice now, along with self-condemnation. “I would not give the Inquisition less than that… but how could that hold true, with a lyrium leash around my neck? Leliana would not have balked at getting an illegal source, but… I did not want…” Suddenly, he stopped and pulled back a little, eyes opening so he could look into Dorian’s. “Do… do you think I should go back on it?” His voice was soft, and there was a note of hope there, a gleam in Cullen’s eyes that he didn’t like.

“I am not going to sanction your addiction, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Arching a brow, he pulled back a little further to look Cullen full in the face. “You’ve chosen a brave path, Mellitus; don’t ask me to tarnish your nobility.”

“I am the farthest thing from noble, Dorian.” The blond brought his forehead back to Dorian’s, eyes closed again as he gave the mage a light squeeze. “Every day, I want it. Every day I almost give in. The pain, the dreams… it is a nightmare that will never end.” The resignation that had crept into his voice and posture brought a sour taste to Dorian’s mouth. “You were right; this probably will kill me even if I manage to keep from succumbing to the want.”

“No.”

“… no?” Bewilderment was better than complacency by a long shot, so Dorian only gave a small nod before catching Cullen’s lips with his.

“No.” he murmured again, wrapping his arms around the other man’s neck and pressing as close as he could. The kiss had been too short, in his opinion, but Cullen denied him another by jerking his head up, gazing at the mage in disbelief.

“This isn’t… you can’t just say ‘no’ to this, Dorian.”

“Yes I can. Watch and listen: no.” When the blond only shook his head, Dorian gave a soft huff of irritation, glaring up at the man. “You are not going to die of this, Mellitus. I will not allow it, and that is that.”

“I’m not sure how much of a say you have.” Baffled, bewildered, and perhaps growing a little bit angry… but anger was good. Anger helped you fight; though if he could keep the man from being angry at _him_ , that would be nice.

“I don’t get the final say, of course. I’m not quite that magnificent, though I do believe the Maker will be declaring my new appointment as the Divine any day now – coming back to the world to do it too, before He disappears back behind His shroud of mystery. I believe that will give me enough influence to make that final decision. Too bad He can’t handle Corypheus for us, but the most important matter will be attended to.”

“Dorian…” That note of fond, exasperated laughter was back, and Cullen no longer looked like he had one foot in the grave. He didn’t look happy, of course, but he didn’t look like a man waiting to die either – a marked improvement that Dorian was happy to settle for. “You are the strangest man.”

“I’m not sure if I’m flattered or offended. That is a dueling offense, Mellitus.”

“It is no such thing.”

“You know nothing of Tevinter, and I say it IS a dueling offense. But that doesn’t matter now; here’s what matters. You are not going to die of this, Mellitus, and neither are you going to give in and take lyrium. You are perhaps the strongest man of my acquaintance, and I believe you can do this. I have faith in you, Mellitus.”

“Sylaera says I must go back on it if I become a hindrance to the Inquisition. I agree with her.”

“Sylaera can throw herself into the Waking Sea.” Realizing that he’d gone perhaps a little too far from the tightening in Cullen’s facial muscles, he sighed and shook his head. “It’s only… you shouldn’t think of it that way, or it will begin to sound rational.”

“It _is_ rational. The Inquisition needs me. If I must go on lyrium to be of use, then that i-” For once, it was Dorian’s turn to stop the nonsense Cullen was talking with a kiss. It wasn’t a swift, barely-there brush of lips, either; he poured all the feeling that he could into the gesture, lingering there for long moments. It was warm and affectionate as Dorian tried to make his Commander _feel_ how much he cared, how much he believed in his strength. When they broke apart, there was a ragged edge to Cullen’s breath, his eyes slightly hooded. 

“You do _not_ need lyrium to command the Inquisition.” He whispered fiercely, searching the other’s expression. “I have faith in you, Cullen Rutherford, former Templar and Commander of the Inquisition, you adorably surly fool. I have faith in you, Mellitus. You can survive this, and you don’t need the Blighted lyrium to do it.” For a moment, Cullen’s expression brightened, hope in his eyes… but then they shuttered again, leaving him shaking his head.

“But the pain... you can’t imagine the pain, Dorian.”

“Likely not, as I spend a great deal of my energy avoiding such things. But you can bear it. When it gets too bad, you can come here – you said that makes it easier, yes?” Cullen nodded reluctantly, arms tightening around Dorian again. “You can also come to me. I may not be able to take the pain away, but I can hold you until it passes.” He felt his cheeks reddening and looked away, sighing softly. “A great inconvenience to be sure, but for you I will make the sacrifice.”

“You would do that?”

“I told you the other day – all you will ever need do is ask, and you can have it. And this time, you don’t even have to do that much! All you have to do is say ‘yes Dorian, oh magnificent and powerful mage of my heart, I would love for you to interrupt your day to hold me’ and it is done.”

There was that half-smile he liked so much, where his scar was pulled up and the man looked very nearly happy. “Yes, Dorian. I would like that very much.”

“You left out the most important parts, Mellitus.”

“You give yourself enough airs; I don’t need to stroke your ego any further.”

“No, you really do. Stroke away.”

“Perhaps later.” Drawing Dorian into another kiss, Cullen ran one hand up his back until he could cup the nape of Dorian’s neck, fingers lightly toying with the hair he could reach there. The man still kissed him like he was almost as essential as air, with a note of desperation like he believed Dorian could be wrenched from him at any moment. Unfortunately, that might prove true.

As if reading his mind, Cullen pulled away and brought his mouth to Dorian’s temple, squeezing him tightly. “I wish they weren’t coming back.” The admission was so soft it might almost have been the wind… but the mage would know the sound of his Commander’s voice anywhere. “It is an unworthy thought, but…”

“I know, Mellitus. I know.” Despite the warmth of Cullen’s ugly cloak and Cullen himself wrapped around him, the cold was creeping back in. It was Dorian’s turn to hide his face, pressing it into the blonde’s shoulder as he burrowed as close to the man as he possibly could. This would have to end, this time they’d given themselves, and they both knew it. Things would change when the Inquisitor and Bull returned, and Dorian still had no idea how, or if… whatever this was between them would be strong enough to weather the storm.

“Did you move your bed so I won’t be woken by stray bits of snow falling through your roof?”

“I did, this afternoon. Nylan helped me.”

“And the tower is still standing? So happy to hear it; you court disaster with that one, mark my words.”

“He does very well when he doesn’t have mages attacking him out of nowhere.”

“I did no such thing!” Cullen gave a disbelieving snort, and Dorian pouted where he couldn’t see – he was still saving the expression for the most opportune time. “Alright, perhaps there was a small amount of attacking on my part, but he overreacted.”

“I think anyone would have reacted as he did.”

“That is not even close to being true, and you’ve distracted me entirely from the original point of my question.”

“The one about my bed?”

“Yes. I was going somewhere very specific, and then you had to bring up that fool. You’ve utterly destroyed the mood.”

“You were the one who started disparaging him instead of continuing your thought.” When Dorian huffed in irritation, Cullen chuckled lightly and gave him a soft squeeze. “Alright then. Where were you going that was so important?”

“Take me to bed, you ridiculous man.”


	11. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen shows Dorian the new location of his bed, and Dorian doesn't quite know how to handle the change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was totally supposed to get posted yesterday, but partway through, it was brought to my attention that a new book in a series I love came out a while ago, and I had to go read it. It was right before the smut, which I agonize over anyway, so I didn't quite make it before I had to go to bed. XD
> 
> But here it is!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and for all the lovely support! <3

The trip back down the three separate ladders was a lot faster than going up; in his time following the Inquisitor, Dorian had perfected a slide down them that didn’t rip the very delicate and sensitive skin on his palms to shreds. Blighted woman was always climbing _everything_ , often only to turn around and drop back down just as soon as her ‘friends’ had followed her up. The walk along the wall, in contrast, seemed to take forever… but at the same time he wasn’t sure he’d wanted it to end. A few steps out of the drafty-but-complete tower, Cullen had reached over and taken his hand, a resolute expression on his face. The first time they passed one of the recruits on patrol, Dorian had tried to take his hand back, not wanting to embarrass his Commander; the man had scowled over at him and held on even tighter.

That such a small thing put a song in his heart made him the most absurd man ever to be born, but there it was. Singing happily despite his attempts to dampen it, just as he couldn’t quite keep his smile from breaking free. He didn’t know if any of the Inquisition forces that patrolled past them noticed that linking of fingers, but he didn’t care because _Cullen_ didn’t care, and oh, the butterflies that rose in his stomach at the thought were absolutely shameful. More shameful was that he wished he hadn’t forced his Mellitus to take back that distinctive cloak; not only would he be warmer, but there was no way anyone would have missed that, or the meaning behind it.

He was so absolutely hopeless.

It was with mixed feelings that he watched Cullen pull open the door to his tower. Surely what would happen in the man’s bed was far more interesting and meaningful than simply holding hands… except that he’d been in an awful lot of beds – some of them very nice and holding delightful company – and he did believe that Cullen had been the first man to ever grab hold of his hand and lace their fingers together, like they belonged that way. That made it inherently more special, didn’t it? Or did thinking that just make him a sentimental fool?

True sentiment was the enemy of all, at least in the Tevinter Imperium and – from what he’d learned from Josephine and Vivienne – Orlais. Real feelings were hidden behind masks or complicated maneuvers, until they got lost in tangled knots of ‘could have been’s and originally good intentions. While he abhorred the practice, it had still left its mark, largely at the hands of his past lovers, most of whom would never acknowledge that anything untoward had happened at all. They would smile and greet Dorian at parties if they had to, but anything _real_ was trapped behind layers of insincerity, familial duty and fear. It was never worth the work it would take to muck out his own feelings, let alone those of someone else. So he’d vanished into the glitz and false mirth, falling so far into it that he’d begun to forget that he was more than that. Cullen was helping him remember, and he wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing.

Both of them were quiet as the door closed behind him, and his Mellitus sent him the sweetest, shyest smile he’d seen in a long time as he gestured toward the ladder. “If you would like to go first, I will be up in a moment.” 

“Fine, but if there are flower petals and dozens of lit candles up there I demand the right to go through any books you’re thinking of reading first. That way I can get rid of the rubbish before you get any more ideas.” Dorian answered carelessly, already up the first few rungs of the ladder. It wasn’t far enough to miss the way Cullen’s face crumpled just a little bit, one of his hands tightening into a fist. _Vishante kaffas_ , he was bad at this. “Come here, Mellitus.” He murmured, beckoning the man over; when his Commander reluctantly closed the distance, the ladder was between them… but it didn’t stop Dorian from bending over slightly between two rungs so he could put his forehead to Cullen’s. “I am so magnificent and charming that you may not have realized I have a few faults. Very minor ones, I assure you.”

“I had noticed, actually.” Cullen answered, a bit of humor in his voice, thank the Maker.

“You are so very discerning, unless we’re talking about apparel. One of these minor, almost non-existent faults is a knee jerk reaction to make light of things. Unbelievable, I know.” He continued over the blonde’s snort, trying not to laugh himself. “Should I do that in your company, unlikely though that may be, you may take me to task for it. Or ignore it and watch me flounder in abashed embarrassment when I find something sickeningly sentimental waiting for me and adore it more than I should. The choice is yours, Mellitus.” A pause where Dorian pulled back, then cleared his throat. “I never mean to make light of you or hurt your feelings. I just… forget that words _do_ hurt, sometimes.” And that others hadn’t had the years of building up their armor that he had.

“Well, there aren’t any flower petals, so I believe in this instance neither is warranted.” The other man murmured, one hand lifting to cup Dorian’s cheek, thumb stroking over the beauty mark there.

“But you have something planned, yes?”

“Perhaps I did.”

“And I’ve ruined it with my dreadful Tevinter ways, haven’t I?”

“Perhaps not.” A smile was tugging at Cullen’s lips, leaving Dorian to scowl good-naturedly at him.

“While I do adore a man of few words, there is such a thing as going too far, you know. You may be a barbarian, but you’re not a brainless brute.” Now the blond was grinning as he leaned _up_ for a change, pressing a quick kiss to Dorian’s lips.

“Up.” He commanded in that irritatingly irresistible way of his, a smug arrogance born of confidence turning his voice into a rumbling purr. “Go. Now.”

“Of all the insufferable louts!” Dorian pretended to fume at the order, keeping his place on the ladder as Cullen circled around it. “I am a proud and noble scion of-” A rather unseemly yelp escaped him as Cullen – stodgy, serious Commander of the Inquisition, Cullen Rutherford – swatted him on the ass as he passed by. “CULLEN!”

“Up. Unless you want a real paddling.”

Dorian choked on _that_ , feeling heat rise quickly to his cheeks. It really wasn’t fair, the way Cullen could change personalities on him. He was used to being the charming, forward and flirtatious one. What was he supposed to do when the man had him reduced to a stammering mess? At least this time he had an escape route – dreadfully good thing that he was so keen on getting up the ladder to see where Cullen had placed the bed. Otherwise he might have to actually answer that ridiculous statement.

The new layout, of course, was nothing too revolutionary. Cullen owned almost nothing, after all, and most of _that_ was down below so his study was suitably impressive. The bed had simply been shifted to the other side of the platform – now Cullen’s chest was directly beneath any possible dripping, and he’d have to find a way to ensure none of his Mellitus’ things got soaked because of the considerate shift in the floorplan. While he would have been pleased enough by that, and secretly thrilled that the man would rearrange even the smallest part of his life because of him, there was more. 

Little things, things that some might not even notice. Dorian’s pillow – covered in luscious Orlesian silk – looked slightly out of place beside Cullen’s more sensible, cotton-covered monstrosity, but it was there all the same. The blanket he’d brought the night before had been similarly made welcome, and there was what appeared to be a small pile of additional folded blankets within reach of Dorian’s side, settled on a new chair where he could grab them during the night if he needed. The sight had his throat feeling a bit tight, and a ball of emotion was trying to force its way up from his chest, but he held strong, smoothing his mustache repeatedly to do so as swept his eyes over the room again, looking for other, similar shifts despite himself.

Gone was the horrendous pair of thread-bare red carpets, the ones that hadn’t protected his feet from the cold at all when he’d finally crawled his way out of his Commander’s bed. Now there was a far thicker one that spread out from under that bed. Though it was fur – of _course_ it was fur – it looked rather warm and lush and cozy. Dorian had the mad impulse to kick off his boots and peel off his socks so he could see how it would feel on his bare feet.

So he did, because by the Maker, his Mellitus had done this for him and he would admit he loved it. Just a little, of course, and only to himself. No sense in giving Cullen anything to gloat about.

It was the work of only a few moments to shed the heavy, protective yet stylish footwear. It was harder to get rid of the socks, but only because he dreaded the cold air. He managed, however, sitting on the bed to peel them off and immediately sinking his feet into that ugly, wonderful new rug. For a few moments his feet stayed about the same not-quite-cold temperature, and he was all set to pout… but then he realized that they were getting warmer. Even better, his feet hadn’t frozen when they touched down. With this, he could – perhaps – keep from wearing his socks to bed, which Cullen had teased him for the night before. Bull at least kept silent about that odd quirk of his, but then… he’d never really spent the night with the Qunari in the same way.

That train of thought was confusing and mildly painful, so he treated it like he did most uncomfortable things and ignored it. Far better to take in the small braziers that would give off a nice bit of heat when lit – which he did immediately after seeing them, tapping into his magic without a thought – and the draping fabric Cullen had somehow managed to affix over the small windows. The fabric was almost as ugly as the rug, but Maker, the man had tried… and if anyone tried to replace it with any beautiful silk or velvet hangings, he would slaughter them with a smile on his face.

It was so much more than the simple shifting of furniture he’d asked for – well, demanded, really. It had been done with thought for him, and what he might like, and Maker this was even sappier than flowers and candles and he was _not_ going to cry. That would make him even more of a romantic than Cassandra, and the woman had to have some area where she could shine brighter than he. Tamping down on his emotions, he cleared his throat several times, trembling fingers again smoothing his already perfect and well-smoothed mustache. This wasn’t for him – Cullen had surely just decided to use moving his bed as an excuse to make his chambers more livable. Fixing the hole in the roof would have been more impressive.

Thankfully that hadn’t happened, or he’d be an absolute mess.

No, no, these were all such little, miniscule things that meant nothing when taken altogether. Even things that were for him, like the extra blankets, would easily be put away when the Blighted Inquisitor returned from her little jaunt, and then it would be like Dorian had never been here at all.

That cheerful thought was interrupted by Cullen, who’d finally climbed up the ladder to join him. The blond looked just a little unsure beneath the cocky smirk he wore, because the man had less guile than a child. “As I said, no flower petals.”

“Yes. I was impressed and gratified by the lack. I…” Clearing his throat he looked away, ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You did well, moving the bed over here. I like it much better. I suppose even that fool Nylan has his uses. Though I don’t know why you decided on a _fur_ rug.”

“I thought that even if you wouldn’t wear it, you might condescend to step on it. And it appears I was right.”

Feeling like a child caught filching a pastry from the kitchen, Dorian yanked his feet off the rug and sat cross-legged instead, giving a huff of irritation. “I only wanted to see why all you Ferelden’s go wild over the stuff. I still don’t really understand, but then I actually have a sense of style.”

The knowing smile on Cullen’s face made his heart flop over, because he was a fool. “Yes, Dorian. You’re very stylish.” 

“Quite. I’ll thank you not to ever forget that.” With all the grace and aplomb he could muster – which was, admittedly, a lot – he rose from the bed, giving Cullen his best smile. “I appreciate the change, Mellitus. I shall be able to sleep in your dismal little tower without fear of becoming an icicle. Come here, if you please? I’d come to you, but I refuse to take a step off this terrible rug.”

Without that bit of uncertainty lain beneath it, Cullen’s smirk was very nearly lethal; Dorian was surprised he didn’t just swoon and melt away. The way the other man approached him, with the predatory grace of some large jungle cat, was almost enough to finish the job, but he forced himself to stay strong. If he wasn’t careful, the blond was going to take complete control again – always a delight, of course, but it was time for something a little different.

“Far enough, thank you.” Cullen came to a nearly instant halt, one eyebrow arching in a question that Dorian happily ignored. “Now hand me that dreadful cloak, will you?” Again the blond obeyed, though he sighed rather dramatically. “There’s no need for theatrics, Mellitus.” Dorian informed him tartly as he carefully folded the ugly bit of apparel Cullen was so fond of. Setting it on the bed for the moment, he made a note to move it later before it got ruined.

“This coming from you?”

“I do believe that was an insult. Tomorrow we duel.”

“I’d rather we ‘duel’ right now.” Cullen complained, taking a step forward. Before he could go any further, Dorian stopped him by laying a firm hand on his chest, fingers splayed.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Haven’t we done this already?”

“Will you stop? I’m very much trying to create a mood here, and you’re not being very helpful.”

“I apologize. What mood do you want?” The fact that their playful sniping was starting to get him hard probably said something awful about Dorian, but he couldn’t quite make himself care. Took all kinds, and all that.

“One where you’re _silent_ and in great awe of both my preternatural looks and my many talents.”

“I am in awe of both, Dorian.” Despite the good humor in his voice, Cullen also seemed serious; Dorian was so pleased and flustered that he didn’t stop the man from reaching out and cupping his cheek. In fact, he even nuzzled further into the man’s palm – which the blond took immediate advantage of, stepping even closer.

“You impossible man! Stay put!” The irritation in his voice was mostly play-acting, and in response his Commander threw up his hands and took that step back, grinning openly as he did. “One more step, Mellitus, and I shall abandon my endeavor entirely.”

“As I don’t know what said endeavor _is_ , I’m not sure how much of a bad thing that is.” This could not possibly be the same man who’d been a broken mess less than a candle mark ago. There was no pain or distress anywhere in his expression or posture, and his eyes sparkled with good humor. While Dorian was glad of it, he also wondered if Cullen was truly well… or if he’d simply gotten very good at hiding the hurt so no one would worry about him.

“I’ve been trying to show you, but you won’t let me. I had this all planned, you know. It was going to be magnificent, almost worthy of a song.”

“If you’d stop chatting at me, it still could be.”

Giving an explosive sigh of annoyance, Dorian threw up his hands and looked to the heavens for help. “Maker, give me strength. I’ve chosen a challenging one this time.” The mage couldn’t help but notice that Cullen looked somehow smugly pleased and shyly content at the word ‘chose’, and it sparked an answering smile on his lips that was soft and affectionate. “Shut up and stay still, Mellitus.”

“You have yet to give me a compelling reason to do so, you know.”

“I liked you better when you were speaking in monosyllabic words.” Before Cullen could snipe back at him, Dorian glared and clapped a hand over the blonde’s mouth. He could feel a smile forming under his hand, but he ignored the way it tickled his palm. “I was going to undress you first, but you had to find a sense of humor. As I don’t wish to wait any longer, you may go without the slow seduction.” The warmth in Cullen’s eyes blazed almost instantly into a smoldering fire, and Dorian had to suck in a quick breath to replace the air that had left his lungs.

Cullen’s hand lifted and he speared his fingers through Dorian’s hair, giving the strands a light tug. Despite himself, he dropped his own hand, unsurprised to see that smirk back on his Commander’s lips. “No seduction? What exactly do you think we’ve been doing then?” he teased in a husky voice as he tipped the mage’s head back. “I can see your reaction to me, to this… it’s the same as mine. Don’t pretend this isn’t part of our dance, sweetheart.” Before Dorian could answer, Cullen took his mouth, tongue thrusting past the mage’s unresisting lips. Moaning low in his throat, the darker man grabbed hold of his Commander’s arms, fabric twisting under his fingers as he fought the urge to lean into the other. Cullen seemed to take that as a challenge, growling into the kiss as his hand twisted slightly in Dorian’s hair; to his credit, he didn’t try to pull the mage closer or step forward himself. At the same time, his tongue left off playing with Dorian’s and began to thrust in and out of his mouth in long, slow, wet glides.

That imitation of sex nearly undid his resolve – it would be so easy to let Cullen take complete command, to forget his original intent and let the man have his wicked way with him. His cock had grown to full hardness, and he ached to step into his Mellitus, to find some satisfaction in the press and grind of two bodies coming together; he wanted to feel Cullen’s cock pressed against him in return. Groaning as he wavered in indecision, Dorian forced himself to intercept the blonde’s tongue with his own, stopping its delicious motion and drawing it into a duel instead. Slowly, he was able to bring the intensity of the kiss down, until he could wrench his mouth away, gasping for breath.

“You’re a wicked man, Mellitus.” He panted, glad to see Cullen was fighting for air as well. “But I shan’t give in to your underhanded tactics – I will prevail in the end.” Dorian didn’t wait for a response, because that had been his downfall before. Hearing the man’s undoubtedly witty and humorous retort was far less important than action, taken swiftly and boldly before his Mellitus got the upper hand again.

Dorian dropped to his knees with the same easy grace as he’d gotten off the bed, resting his hands on Cullen’s hips. He’d expected the hand in his hair to stay there, but his Mellitus had pulled it away, leaving him with the urge to pout. Looking up into the other’s face, he grinned instead at seeing the way his jaw had dropped slightly, eyes wide with his lips parted in surprise. “Dorian?”

“Shut up and stay put, Commander.” He told the blond again, giving his hips a light squeeze. “And here’s something to remember so you can make better choices next time: if you hadn’t engaged in a battle of wits with me – one you lost, by the way – you’d be naked for this.”

“I believe this will do just as well.” Cullen answered, voice rough with strain, a slight blush on his cheeks. Surely the man had done this before, but the flush was rather endearing, so Dorian chose not to poke fun at it. His attention was far better used admiring the man in front of him. Cullen’s trousers were loose enough that from a distance it might be hard to notice his arousal, but the mage certainly did. Leaning forward, Dorian gently mouthed the outline of the other man’s cock; Cullen let out a hiss of pleasure, hips pushing forward into the light touch. 

He’d wanted this to be a long, drawn out journey of teasing and exploring – it always seemed to happen so fast with them, an explosion of sparks that couldn’t be slowed or contained. But there on his knees, with Cullen’s earthy scent wrapped around him and his cock jumping eagerly under his mouth despite layers of fabric separating them, he found that he didn’t want to wait any more. His hands slid from Cullen’s hips and began working at the fastenings of his trousers; from the corner of his eyes, he could see Cullen’s clenching into fists at his sides. As he pulled away from the man’s groin, Dorian tipped his head back so he could look at his face instead. The blond had his eyes closed tightly, and his lips were moving, giving silent words to the air – was the man _praying_ or some such nonsense? If that were so, he didn’t know whether to find it flattering or insulting.

It took a moment for him to get his Commander ready to drop trou, but once he had, he paused a moment longer. “Mellitus? You are allowed to touch me, you know.”

One hand was in his hair so fast that Dorian knew there was a reason behind his slightly odd behavior… but now was not the time for a heartfelt discussion. Not when he was so desperate to take Cullen into his mouth; not when he himself was so hard he ached. The calloused fingers tugged his hair impatiently, and Dorian knew that the blond was just as desperate as he was. Without much ceremony but a great deal of expertise, the mage tugged at Cullen’s trousers and smalls until they were well down his muscled thighs, then removed his hands and let gravity do the work.

His dark eyes were drawn unerringly to Cullen’s cock, and he couldn’t help but swallow hard against the sudden dryness of his mouth. It was a thing of beauty, standing proudly in a nest of blond curls. His blunt head was flushed a deep red, with precum weeping from the tip. The man was impressive in girth and had a nice length, and it was so wonderful to be presented with a cock he actually had a hope of fitting his lips around. “ _Fasta vass_ Mellitus… you’re perfect.”

Embarrassed silence was his only answer, making him laugh softly, breath puffing against Cullen’s head. His Commander responded by pressing his hips forward and pushing against Dorian’s head, until the mage’s lips met the spongy tip. Opening his mouth just a little, he flicked his tongue out to get a taste of the other man; the flavor lay heavily in his mouth like a wine he wanted to savor, slightly salty and all Cullen. His Mellitus moaned and pushed more insistently against his head, but this time Dorian didn’t obey. “Patience please. You wouldn’t let me undress you… let me have my fun.”

Oh, and it was so very enjoyable, learning the other man with his mouth. He delighted in every nearly-pained groan he was able to call forth as his tongue laved Cullen’s length until his shaft glistened wetly in the light of his room. He learned that his Commander swore very colorfully when he teased the man by taking part of that blunt head past his lips and suckling, refusing to go down any further. Cullen was a hair puller, which wasn’t a complete surprise, and the twist he gave the strands when Dorian wrapped his hand around that wonderful cock and began to pump up and down had the mage moaning in pleasure right along with him.

Touching and teasing and tasting Cullen was heightening his own lust, and his trousers felt uncomfortably tight. He did nothing about it, however, because he wanted to be focused on his Mellitus as the man came apart under his attentions. The hand he didn’t have wrapped around Cullen’s shaft had slid around to grab hold of his Commander’s well-muscled ass – that had the man cursing again as his hips surged forward. This time, Dorian didn’t resist that silent plea; fitting his mouth to Cullen’s head, he opened his mouth once more, swirling his tongue around the blunt tip for just a moment. Then, movement smooth, he slid down until his lips were stretched wide to accommodate his Mellitus’ fat head. Pausing, he sucked hard, cheeks hollowing with the effort, his eyes lifting to find Cullen’s face. His actions had wrung out a choked curse, and the hand in his hair was gripping almost painfully tight; it was all perfect.

His hand was still gliding slowly along the man’s shaft with only a little pressure behind the touch, providing pleasure with little relief. Dorian’s mouth moved almost as slowly as he took more and more of that thick, meaty cock into his mouth – it had been awhile, after all. Cullen seemed impatient with the pace and trying his best not to hurry it along. His other hand had found purchase in Dorian’s hair as well, both tightening and releasing as his hips shifted restlessly. Smiling internally, the mage did speed up just a little, sinking down until he felt the man’s head hit the back of his throat. A soft gag escaped him – Maker it had been _such_ a long time – and Cullen growled in response. He’d half-expected it, so when his Commander pushed his hips forward while holding his head still, he didn’t resist. He allowed the man to thrust into his throat until he could go no further, his dulled instincts enough to keep him from gagging and choking horribly. From there, his Mellitus took control, fucking his mouth as he growled and groaned above him.

Dorian kept his eyes on the man’s face, watching as Cullen came undone. His face was flushed and he was gasping for breath; not a trace was left of his reserved stoicism, and even that sexy arrogance had faded under the weight of naked lust. Despite allowing his Commander to do just that, he didn’t sit idly by; now each hand had a cheek in its grip, squeezing and kneading the toned flesh. He kept his mouth busy as well, sucking still as his tongue fluttered and teased the best it could with so much in his mouth. Maker, he wanted this to last forever – even his own nearly painful hard-on would be worth it, to keep that look on Cullen’s face and his cock thrusting in and out of Dorian’s.

Alas, nothing good ever lasts, and it wasn’t long before he felt Cullen’s body starting to tense. “Dorian… I can’t… I’m going to…” The man made as though to pull out completely, and it was the mage’s turn to growl, hands tightening their grip and trying to hold his Commander close. Perhaps the vibrations caused by the sound did it, or the realization that Dorian _wanted_ him to cum in his mouth; either way, Dorian felt the tell-tale swelling of the man’s cock as Cullen gave several frantic, jerky thrusts before pushing in deep and holding, a hoarse cry leaving his throat as he exploded in Dorian’s mouth. Eyes still on his face, the mage thought his Mellitus had never looked sexier as he did in that moment; he was completely unguarded, pleasure writ deep in his features, eyes closed tightly. The man’s back was slightly arched, and Dorian had the smug thought that this orgasm might be literally toe-curling.

Just as the mage was beginning to be a bit hard-pressed to breathe, it was over. He’d swallowed almost everything his lover had offered, leaving only a small bit in his mouth and on his lips as Cullen pulled out. Catching it with his tongue, he also caught the man when he staggered, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. “Easy, Mellitus.” He soothed, his own voice a bit hoarse now, breath coming in soft pants.

Cullen nodded weakly, standing a moment with his head bowed; Dorian was sure he was centering himself after being so wildly off-balance. When the man carefully pulled away, he let him go, watching as he walked to the bed, stumbling a little as his trousers got caught on his boots. He almost fell onto the piece of furniture, and Dorian felt immensely self-satisfied at the slightly dazed, vacant look on Cullen’s face – perhaps it had been a long time for him too. Instead of getting up, he turned toward the man and scooted closer, until he could pillow his head on his Commander’s bare thigh.

His eyes drifted shut when the blond began to stroke his hair, both of them silent as they basked in the glow of what had happened between them. Dorian masterfully ignored the throbbing of his own cock, content despite it; the moment was so utterly cozy and intimate it made him want to gag. Or dance about the room humming – the two were about the same, really. It was Cullen who broke the quiet with a weak chuckle, hand stilling. “I… that was… it was…”

“Amazing? Astonishing? Astounding? Magnificent? Perfect? Worthy of a song?”

“Maker’s blood.” Now the man’s voice was rich with laughter, body shaking slightly with it as well. “While it was very good, I’d rather not have people singing about what happens in our bed.”

 _Our bed_. Fuck. If his Mellitus didn’t stop with things like that, Dorian was going to fall too far and get his heart smashed into little pieces when Lavellan came home.

“Oh, very well. It would be a marvelous song though.”

“I’m sure.”

“Maybe I’ll have Maryden whip something up, just for our private use.”

“Please no.” Cullen sounded pained, and when Dorian peeked up, he looked it too. “She would sing it to everyone – the woman has no ability to be discreet. Maker, that song she sings about Sera-”

“Sera would write an even better song.”

“NO!” Dorian dissolved into laughter at his Commander’s horrified shout, hiding his face in the man’s thigh. “Andraste’s holy knickers, that would be _worse_ not better. Have you gone mad?”

“Mellitus, I was always mad… though in a very charming way, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Now you simply have a front row seat to said madness.”

“I thought you didn’t engage in theatrics?”

“I would prefer if you could stop remembering the things I say, please. Makes things very awkward for me.” He smiled when Cullen laughed, his Mellitus relaxed and – dare he think it – happy. “Cullen?”

“Yes Dorian?”

“I’m very glad I shattered my glass that night in the library. Terribly unrefined of me, but it brought me here. Perhaps there is something to be said for being a barbarian.”

“I’m… well. I’m glad I was stealing bottles of disgusting alcohol and heard it shatter. I like you being here.” Dorian gave a happy sigh when the man began to pet his hair once more, nuzzling his cheek against his Commander’s thigh. “And I don’t want to forget the things you say. You said…” Hesitating, the man cleared his throat, and Dorian would bet ten massages that he was blushing and looking away. “You said I had only to ask.”

“Indeed I did. Is there something you’d like, Mellitus?”

“I… yes.” Dorian waited for more, but he did so in vain – Cullen had gone quite mute.

“Would you like to tell me what it is?”

“Well. I simply… I wonder if you wouldn’t mind… but I don’t know if you…”

“Do stop thinking and just _ask_ , you ridiculous man.”

“Would you fuck me?” The words came out in a rush, almost tumbling together. As soon as they were out, his body went tense, muscle hardening under his cheek like he expected Dorian to pull away in absolute horror. There was none, of course – something had happened to his Mellitus, something that had made sex awkward. Part of him wanted to blame that bitch Lavellan, but it couldn’t be entirely her doing. Later, he would ask.

Much, much later, because just then all he could think about was Cullen’s words. He could imagine it in vivid detail: Cullen beneath him, panting and squirming while he slid in and out of that perfect ass. Maker, he could almost _feel_ it, and his cock was nearly dancing in glee, that sweet ache coming back full force.

“If you would rather not, I do understand. I’m sure with Bull…” His Commander trailed off, and Dorian realized his protracted silence as he visited fantasy land had caused Cullen to withdraw. That was simply unacceptable.

Straightening his back, Dorian shifted his position, until he was kneeling in front of the other man again. Placing a hand on either knee, he looked up into Cullen’s eyes; whatever the man could read in his own made his breath hitch a slow smile curve his lips.

“Mellitus, there is nothing I want more in this world.” Again came that smile, the one that said the mage had just given Cullen _everything_ … and Dorian felt it. He felt his heart transfer from Bull’s tenuous possession straight into Cullen’s; his Mellitus owned him. Maybe it wasn’t love, not yet… but he didn’t see how he could walk away when Sylaera returned and be even a little alright. He didn’t know how he could be a whole person without Cullen there beside him.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so y'all know, the next chapter is totally the smut Cullen asked for. XD I just didn't want the chapter to get too unwieldy, and this seemed like a good place to stop.


	12. Having

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian gives Cullen what was asked of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. Smut takes me about eight times longer than regular chapters, and I'm still 90% sure it's awful.
> 
> I hope it isn't too bad and that you enjoy. Thanks so much for reading! <3
> 
> Also, I live for comments. XD Thanks to everyone who's left some thus far.

“Why are your clothes so Blighted complicated?”

“ _Fashion_ , my darling Mellitus. It’s fashion.”

“Bloody inconvenient is what it is.” Dorian was hard-pressed not to laugh at Cullen’s obvious frustration as the normally dexterous man fumbled with the intricate fastenings of Dorian’s shirt. After he’d agreed to his Commander’s request, the man couldn’t seem to get him naked fast enough… or at all, really. Dorian had quickly removed the blonde’s boots and socks, then stood to move that ugly cloak from the bed. As soon as he did, Cullen had growled and grabbed him, playfully dragging him onto the bed and pinning the mage beneath him. Then the buckles and straps and laces Dorian’s top boasted had defeated him.

“I’ll give you a lesson later, Mellitus.” Dorian teased, covering the man’s hands with his own. “But this time I’ll handle this part, and you get my trousers off after.”

Cullen looked both relieved and dissatisfied at the suggestion, causing Dorian to laugh softly. Reaching up, he took gentle hold of the back of the man’s neck, pulling him down. With a series of light, tender kisses, he removed the scowl from his Commander’s face.

“Very well. But next time I shall not be cowed by your whimsical wardrobe.”

“Of course not. Now, I wish to sit up, if you please. Even someone as magnificent as I can’t handle this splendor lying down.” Cullen snorted with laughter, then did as he was asked, rolling off the mage and onto his side. The man was still wearing his shirt, Dorian noticed, a travesty he would have to put to rights with all due haste.

Under the blonde’s intense, heated scrutiny, Dorian pulled off the long finger-less glove on his left arm, tossing it to the floor; once that was done, he focused his attention on the rest. Where Cullen had struggled, it was the work of only a few moments for him to loosen and unfasten everything, though he did hesitate after separating the other glove from his chest piece. It needed to come off, but Bull was the only member of the Inquisition to see what was underneath, and he’d been far from impressed.

But Cullen wasn’t Bull, so he took a deep breath, then began to tug it off.

As he did, the tattoo beneath was slowly revealed, until it was bared in all its glory and he could toss the glove after its mate. A snake coiled around his forearm, tail tucked into the bend of his elbow and its head on the back of his hand. Done in the traditional style of Tevinter art, it had been created to look like a mosaic, small pieces coming together to comprise the whole. Where the tail was nearly solid black, the color slowly faded into a brilliant gold, until that color sparkled like the true metal on the snake’s head – the talented artist who’d done it for him also worked with a mage, who did marvelous things with color.

Cullen was, of course, staring, his eyes a bit wide and his jaw dropped just a little.

“Terribly Tevinter of me, I know.” Dorian commented breezily, trying to pretend it was nothing special – a whim, inconsequential and unimportant. That was all Bull had seen, after all; a symbol so inherently of the Imperium that it was irritating. The personal meaning to Dorian hadn’t mattered, or even been asked for.

“No! Well, yes, but…” The blond reached out, running his fingers lightly over the ink etched in olive skin. “It’s beautiful. When did you have it done?” A knot of tension in Dorian’s chest unraveled, and he let out the breath he hadn’t really known he was holding.

“Later, Mellitus. I’ll tell you all about it later.” Dorian told him with a grin as he tugged off the last of the fabric covering his chest. The motion always mussed his hair, but just then that didn’t matter – Cullen had already gotten it perfectly out of order, after all. “Right now, I’d rather we begin moving toward the ravishing, if you don’t mind.”

“Not in the slightest.” Was Cullen’s answer, that rumbling purr back in his voice as he surveyed Dorian’s chest. While the mage was, of course, less densely muscled than the military man, he was no paunchy slouch either. He took great pride in his magnificent appearance, and made sure to exercise his body as well as his magic. It was something Cullen seemed to appreciate as he sat up facing Dorian, hands immediately reaching for him. His strong, calloused rested first on his abdomen, then began to glide upward; there was a hint of both reverence and possessiveness to his touch, which made the mage’s muscles ripple with pleasure.

The blond lingered over a jagged just under Dorian’s left pec, brow furrowed slightly. “Duel. The bastard closed with me and got a good swing in; his staff blade caught me. I quite promptly lit him on fire.” Laughing the blond continued his trek, hands smoothing up Dorian’s pecs and onto his shoulders… where he immediately grabbed hold and pushed the mage to the bed again. Now Dorian was laughing as well, allowing his Commander to do as he wished, for the moment. 

His first action was to fix his mouth to the side of Dorian’s neck, a move that caused the mage to arch up off the bed. While Cullen sucked hungrily at his flesh, Dorian slid his hands under the man’s shirt, running them over the blonde’s broad back. Muscles bunched and flexed under his fingers, and Dorian couldn’t help but thank the Maker that he got to touch this perfectly sculpted warrior. His Commander nipped playfully at his skin before letting go and beginning a journey down Dorian’s chest. The mage reluctantly pulled his hands away as Cullen kissed a path down his chest, tongue flicking out every once in a while in a teasing touch that made Dorian groan happily.

On reaching Dorian’s abs, he got on his knees between the mage’s legs and began working on the laces there. Without any complicated fastenings or extra frills, it was the work of a few quick tugs to get them undone, Dorian giving a strangled moan each time Cullen’s knuckles grazed his arousal. As soon as that was done, his Commander backed off the bed and – with as little ceremony as Dorian had used earlier - stripped him of his trousers. His nostrils flared as he looked down at Dorian’s naked body, eyes dark with need as his powerful chest expanded; standing there with the mage’s pants in hand, he looked like a conquering barbarian, and part of Dorian wanted to beg his Commander to take him… but that wasn’t what Cullen had asked for.

The blond dropped his trousers to the ground, then made to join the mage again; Dorian quickly held up a hand to stop him. “Remove your shirt first. This bed is currently reserved for the completely unclothed.”

“Are you banning me from my own bed?”

“Not if you take your shirt off.” Grinning openly, Cullen grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off with one smooth gesture, practically flinging it to the ground. As soon as he climbed into the bed, he was hovering over Dorian again; it was the darker man’s turn to push against his shoulders to turn them both. Luckily, his Commander was amenable to the change, because otherwise, Dorian wasn’t sure he could move him. Once he was on top, he straddled Cullen’s thighs, eyes on that beautiful chest he hadn’t let himself admire that morning.

And void take him, it was stunning.

It wasn’t just the delightful muscles that flexed under pale skin, or the way it tapered slightly at Cullen’s waist. It wasn’t just the rather sexy scars that were lacking on his back – his Mellitus would never retreat or run from battle, after all – or the dusky pink nipples, or the way his chest rose rapidly under Dorian’s scrutiny. All of it together, and the fact that it all belonged to _Cullen_ was what made it so spectacular. The man’s pecs jumped when Dorian traced the edges of a burn scar on his left side – probably from a fire spell lobbed at him by a mage. He wanted to ask when and how, wanted to know about the fight – every fight, really. He wanted to map the scars until he knew them by heart, forming a more complete picture of the man and who he was. His cock, however, was rather forcefully reminding him that he had other things to attend to in that moment. 

“I’ve been a bit jealous, you know.” Dorian murmured, shifting his hands to brush his thumbs over both Cullen’s nipples at the same time, making the man jerk slightly in surprise. “You’ve left several marks on me, and I haven’t given you any at all. I’m afraid a bruise on your neck would be a bit… unprofessional.”

“A little, yes, and my recruits would make an endless amount of jokes about it.” Despite his words, Cullen dropped his head back, baring his neck just a little as if in invitation.

“We can’t have that, can we? I’ll have to leave one where only I can see it instead.” Cullen’s eyes blazed, and he could tell that his Commander was not at all adverse to the idea. Grinning at him, Dorian bent to capture the other man’s mouth. The kiss was hard and demanding on both their parts, open mouthed and full of passion. Their tongues dueled for control, drawing a growl from Cullen and soft moans from Dorian. The separated briefly, only to have the blond slide one hand into Dorian’s hair and tug him down again. Through it all, the mage’s cock rubbed against Cullen’s; he’d thought the feeling divine while they were both clothed, but when it was skin against skin, the blonde’s slowly hardening against him as it regained interest in the proceedings? It was magic, perfect and pure and simple. 

Their kiss lasted for quite some time, until Dorian had the wherewithal to pull back, breath coming in soft pants. Despite that lack of air, he trailed his lips down Cullen’s perpetually scruffy jaw, then further down the hollow of his throat. One of Cullen’s hands was still tangled in his hair, while the other was skimmed over his shoulder and down his arm, then back up again and to his back in a repeating pattern. Dorian drank it all in, the feel of the callouses on Cullen’s fingers, his scent, the softness of his skin as he reached the man’s collar bone, the slight taste of salt when he licked the man’s skin, the sound of Cullen’s groans and skin whispering over skin. It was all better than anything he could have imagined and so very real at the same time, perhaps more real than anything he’d ever known before.

His lips reached Cullen’s right pec, pausing just before he reached the man’s nipple. Opening his mouth, he sucked at the skin there for a moment, gaze locked with Cullen’s as his hands brushed up and down the blonde’s sides. Without any warning, he then bit down hard enough to leave a mark, determined that Cullen should wear something that marked him as _his_ , even if it would be hidden during the day under layers of metal and cloth. Giving a hoarse cry, the blond lifted slightly off the bed, hips rolling upward to rub his hardening shaft more firmly along Dorian’s. Not really meaning to, Dorian bit down harder as he forced his mind to remembering the way Alexius had catalogued his books to keep from spilling his seed all over Cullen’s stomach.

A moment later he let go entirely, soothing the injured area with his tongue as the man beneath him gasped, body slowly relaxing back into the bed. Once Dorian was certain most of the pain had left the bite mark, he switched his focus to Cullen’s nipple, running the flat of his tongue over it twice before swirling his tongue around the hard nub.

“Dorian,” Cullen managed as his fingers tightened in Dorian’s hair, hips pushing up again. There was a note of pleading in his voice that made the mage smile and his cock twitch happily. “Fuck me.”

How was one to argue with that?

“Whatever you want, my dear Mellitus.” Dorian murmured against his skin before he straightened. The sound of Cullen’s protests in his ears, he got off the other man and looked around the room. He didn’t want to ruin his pillow or Cullen’s, but he needed… ah. Grabbing one of those folded blankets, he looked down into Cullen’s face, giving a small smile. “Lift your hips please.” Without asking why or hesitating in the slightest, his Commander obeyed, and Dorian rewarded him with another soul-searing kiss as he slipped the blanket under Cullen’s hips, propping them up slightly. Pleased with his work, Dorian broke the kiss and crawled between the blonde’s legs.

Just as he was about to cast a grease spell, Cullen reached out and took hold of his wrist, giving it a light squeeze. “When I visited the requisition office today, I got more than the blankets and the rug.” He informed Dorian, sounding a bit nervous again. “Perhaps I should not have assumed, but… well, I thought… I wanted…”

“Stop thinking, Cullen.” Dorian chided playfully, hands resting on the man’s abs. “Just say it. I promise not to be angry.”

Though he’d sought to offer reassurance, Cullen still looked embarrass and unsure, looking off to one side as he spoke. “I got some oil. In case… well. In case of this. I left it on the nightstand.” Gaze sweeping over in that direction, Dorian saw the little jar there that had escaped his notice earlier during all the emotion commotion. He bent and pressed a swift kiss to Cullen’s jaw, then left the bed. If he put an extra sway in his step to draw attention to his bottom and his bouncing cock, well… who could blame him? Cullen certainly didn’t seem to mind, seeming almost transfixed as he stared at the mage.

He didn’t open the jar until he was back in bed and between Cullen’s muscular legs; when he did, he was pleased to find the lotion was scented. It was an earthy, musky, sensual smell, one that was obviously designed to heighten the desire of those who used it. It was an oil very clearly meant for the bedroom, which meant the blond hadn’t just gotten it to make his massages even better. He truly did want this. “I know you can use grease, but…” Cullen’s ears went a bit pink, his eyes going to the ceiling. “But after you mentioned scented oils earlier, I… well. I got this. For us. Even if I should not have presumed.”

“It was well done of you, Mellitus.” Dorian soothed in a husky voice he almost didn’t recognize as his own. “After all, it is the job of a commander to be prepared for every scenario, isn’t it?” Cullen smirked up at him, those beautiful golden, honeyed eyes of his hooded and smoldering with lust. The man had, in his opinion, never looked more perfect. Skin flushed with color, lips slightly swollen from their frenzied kisses, the mark Dorian had left just above his right nipple… all of it was simply beautiful, and if he didn’t get inside his Commander soon, he was sure he would die.

Still, it wouldn’t do to hurt the man in his haste, especially since he wasn’t entirely sure if Cullen had any experience in this area. Dipping his fingers into the jar, he scooped out some of the greasy liquid, then locked eyes with the blond. “Bend your knees and spread yourself for me, if you please.” Cullen, still wearing that insolent little smile, spread his legs as he bent his knees and planted his feet flat on the mattress. Instead of simply reaching down, he ran his hands down his chest and over those wonderfully defined abs in a way that made the mage’s mouth water and made his hands itch to follow in the same path… until, of course, those large hands reached their destination.

Dorian’s view, which had been wonderful before, suddenly got a whole lot better. The folded blankets under Cullen’s hips tipped them to the perfect angle, and when the blond spread his cheeks – a sight in and of itself, strong fingers sinking in toned flesh – Dorian couldn’t help but lick his lips. The sight of Cullen stretched out beneath him, bearing his pucker for the mage’s inspection, was the stuff of dreams. He was making himself vulnerable, trusting Dorian with his pleasure, and by the Maker he was going to see that trust rewarded. “I’m going to take such good care of you.” He promised in a hoarse whisper, leaning forward to brush a kiss over Cullen’s kneecap.

“I know.” That simple answer would have been enough to bring him to his knees, if he weren’t already there. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remind his aching cock that soon he would be buried in the other man; but first, he needed to prepare him. His oil-slicked fingers reached out, pressing to Cullen’s pucker and rubbing in slow circles, spreading a bit of the substance there as well as helping the man to relax – he seemed just a little tense, leading Dorian to wonder again about his level of experience when it came to men. Was he nervous? Did he know what to expect?

“Have you done this before?” he asked softly, realizing that knowing at least that much could be useful in helping his Mellitus through this process. While waiting for an answer, he pressed his index finger against the man’s backdoor, slowly probing forward until just the tip had entered the man; that made the man arch up and interrupted his speech.

“I… ah! Maker that’s good… I… yes. A few times.” Seeing Dorian’s eyebrow arched in a question, he flushed a bit deeper, clearing his throat. “When you put twenty or so male Templar recruits in the same quarters and deny them access to women... well. Some sought pleasure elsewhere. I…” Dorian sank his finger deeper, up to the second knuckle, and Cullen groaned at the feeling, insides clamping around the digit and pulsing frantically. “I did so out of more than desperation. It was- Dorian!” The mage had pushed his finger all the way in, marveling at both the feel of his Mellitus’ body and the new information. Templars being naughty with _each other_ , not just mages like in the ‘Randy Dowager Quarterly’ issue Sylaera had found and shared – it was certainly something to think about.

“So you liked it then.” Dorian murmured, rotating his finger this way and that, twisting his finger to help loosen the man. “You weren’t simply making due?”

“I… I did enjoy it, yes.” His Commander answered, head tipped back and eyes closed, breath starting to come a little harder. “Men and women are… are… Maker, Dorian I can’t… can’t think when you do that…” Dorian grinned down at the man, not stopping the gentle thrusting motion of his finger.

“No more talking then, or thinking.” Dorian murmured, pressing another kiss to Cullen’s knee. “Only feeling.” After several more strokes with his index finger alone, Dorian removed it, slotting two against his Commander’s opening instead. As he slowly pushed both inside, Cullen moaned and lifted his hips, fingers digging even harder into his cheeks. Pleased with himself and his Mellitus, Dorian twisted both back and forth as they went deeper, watching the blonde’s face intently. He ached to just take the man, sink his cock deep into the warm, willing man beneath him, but he continued to resist the urge. Once both his index and middle finger were all the way in, he scissored them gently, making Cullen moan loudly before the blond bit down on his lower lip.

When Dorian probed gently and then found his Commander’s prostate, Cullen gave a hoarse cry of pleasure, hips jerking up off the bed, grip failing him as his hands moved to lay on either side of him to twist in the sheets instead. Dorian rubbed that sweet spot, watching in awe as the blond began to whimper and writhe, lower lip caught between his teeth again – Dorian longed to be the one nibbling on it, but he was able to forebear in favor of watching the ecstasy written on the face of his Mellitus. By this time, Cullen’s shaft had also reached full hardness once more, laying heavily against the blonde’s stomach, begging for Dorian’s attention. Maker, he wanted to be touching everything at once, wanted to devour the other man, make him scream and beg and sob in pleasure… his Commander was so Blighted beautiful and responsive he wanted to cry.

Two fingers became three, increasing Cullen’s squirming as his hips rocked in time with Dorian’s thrusts. He was loosening well and there was no discomfort on his face; the man had definitely done this before, even if it had been years. When Dorian deemed his Commander sufficiently prepared – or as much as either of them could stand, as Cullen’s body silent begged for his cock, which was desperate for the same thing – he pulled his fingers out, then dipped them into that jar once more before setting it aside. That helping of oil he spread onto his shaft, groaning as it twitched under his fingers; he prayed he would last long enough to make this good for Cullen.

Moments later, his blunt head was wedged against that beautiful pucker, his eyes fixed on the blonde’s face. Neither of them spoke as Dorian began to press forward, their gasping breaths syncing as he gradually gained entrance to that hot, tight passage. When his head fully breeched the entrance and Cullen’s muscles clamped down around him, Dorian bit out a curse and let his head fall forward, resting it against his Commander’s shoulder as he fought the climax that was dangerously near. Alexius’ library wasn’t enough, so he did his best to think of Mother Giselle’s voice, scolding him for one imaginary offense or another. That dimmed his passion without putting out the flames of his lust, and he trusted himself to press on without embarrassing himself or disappointing his Mellitus.

Cullen seemed to understand that pause, because his hands had gone to Dorian’s back, rubbing soothing circles over his skin. His head had turned as well, lips pressing to the mage’s temple lightly in an effort to help him calm himself. When Dorian lifted again, arms flexing as he held himself up, hands on either side of Cullen’s head, both mage and warrior took a deep, ragged breath at the same time. Their gazes locked as Dorian sank deeper and deeper, and Dorian saw the reflection of his own passion in Cullen’s eyes. The man was clenching his shaft so sweetly, and he was so perfectly tight and so perfectly Cullen… it felt like coming home when he was finally buried completely in the other man.

There he stopped again, and this time he dropped his forehead to Cullen’s; they breathed as one while staring into each other’s eyes, both reveling in the moment and their connection. The room was silent but for their soft, gasping pants. The world beyond the tower had ceased to matter or even exist, and one of Cullen’s hands lifted to rest on Dorian’s cheek, fingers again brushing over his beauty mark. Smiling, Dorian placed his own, still oiled hand over it, giving a light squeeze. The moment felt sacred and so _right_ , more intimate than any other joining Dorian had ever experienced. After a moment, he took hold of Cullen’s hand and brought it to the bed, lacing their fingers together before he started to move.

Each thrust was better than the last, his pace staying steady even as he began to pick up speed. Soon he’d found a rhythm that worked for both of them, dragging groans forth from him as well as soft, needy cries from Cullen’s lips. Again he found himself wishing that this could last forever, that he could be frozen in this moment with his Commander, his Mellitus for all eternity. He was drowning in the other man, lost in his eyes and the feel of his body, in the clean, masculine scent of his sweat and the sounds of his pleasure. Cullen was all that existed, all that mattered, and his heart swelled with emotion for the other man. 

As he felt himself again approaching climax, he forced himself to let go of Cullen’s hand; there would be time to hold onto it later. For now there was a better use for it, since oil still slicked the skin. Bringing it between them, he took hold of Cullen’s shaft, unable to hold back a strained chuckle at the curse the blond bit out, his head tipping back in bliss as his eyes screwed shut. Dorian’s rhythm faltered for just a second, a few jerky thrusts ruining it before he got himself back under control. Then his hand began to stroke Cullen’s shaft in harmony with the way he was pumping in and out of the man’s body, wanting to bring him to completion once more before he found his own pleasure.

“Dorian… Dorian…” His name was a chant on the blonde’s lips, and despite his earlier words, his mouth fell hungrily to Cullen’s neck. He delivered soft nips, suckling on the slightly salty flesh as he drove them both toward their goal. Dorian’s hand tightened slightly around Cullen’s cock, his strokes becoming faster, less controlled and more urgent. The blond responded by wrapping those muscled legs around Dorian, urging him onward, digging his heels into the mage’s ass. Leaving off of Cullen’s neck, Dorian put his mouth to his Commander’s ear instead.

“Cum for me, Mellitus.” He urged softly, then ran his tongue along the shell of the man’s ear. “Let go, Cullen; I have you. Cum.” Cullen gave a sound that wasn’t quite a moan, pushing up into Dorian’s touch, mouth open as he gasped. Trailing his lips in an erratic path down that scruffy jaw, Dorian eventually found his way to that wonderful mouth, his own taking it in a passionate kiss. Their tongues danced as their bodies moved together, both of them desperate for relief. Cullen’s hands transferred from the sheets to Dorian’s biceps, gripping them so tightly his nails were digging into Dorian’s skin; the mage couldn’t care less. Not when there was so much pleasure between them.

Dorian felt Cullen swell in his hand just before the blond tore his mouth away, giving a bellow of pleasure as his cock exploded, bucking in Dorian’s grip as he spilled his seed. Dorian slowed his thrusts as it happened, concentrating on guiding Cullen through his orgasm; when it was over, he pulled his hand away and brought it back to rest on one side of his Commander’s head… then began to fuck him with abandon.

The bed creaked and groaned beneath them as Dorian pounded Cullen’s ass, unable to hold back anymore, not after watching his beautiful, strong Mellitus find such pleasure under his attentions. It didn’t take long at all before he felt that tell-tale tingling, balls tightening as he approached his own climax. He cried out Cullen’s name and gave two more hard thrusts before slamming deeply into the man and holding there; a moment later, he was engulfed in the most intense climax he’d ever experienced. Stars exploded behind his tightly closed eyes, tension in every muscle as he emptied himself deep in Cullen’s body. The moment stretched on forever, and it was a revelation – this was what sex was supposed to be, two people getting completely lost in each other.

When he was spent, he collapsed on top of the blond, gasping harshly for breath, heart hammering against his ribs. Overcome, he could hardly form a coherent thought let along speak; he suspected Cullen was in much the same state. Dorian didn’t know how long they laid there, catching their breath and returning to the world; it was long enough for him to go soft and reluctantly pull free of the heaven that was his Mellitus. Even then they didn’t speak, Cullen wordlessly rolling them onto their sides, their arms wrapped around each other in a lover’s embrace; moments later, in mutual but silent agreement, they brought their foreheads together and began a long, slow kiss. Meant to soothe instead of inflame, it said much more than they could have with words, each of them pouring their souls into the gesture.

Eventually, Cullen pulled away with a regretful sigh and stood; as he walked away, Dorian propped himself up onto one elbow to watch, knowing he probably shouldn’t enjoy the way the blonde’s gait was slightly jilted. His Commander went to his wash basin where he grabbed a cloth, cleaning himself up a bit before he returned to the bed… to Dorian. In silence, they both finished the job on each other, hands tenderly sweeping cloth over skin, mopping up the mess they’d made together. In harmony they took that folded blanket off the bed and tossed it to the floor to join their clothes; not only had it tipped Cullen’s hips, it had also, they discovered, saved the blanket beneath it from getting too wet.

It was only when they’d laid back down, Dorian on ‘his’ side facing the wall with Cullen’s body curved around his, one muscular arm draped around his waist, that either found words. “Maker, that was perfect.” The blond whispered, nuzzling his mouth against Dorian’s ear. “Thank you for… for doing that for me.”

“No thanks needed, as I enjoyed myself quite thoroughly as well.” The mage answered quietly. He knew his smile was so wide it bordered on ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it, wasn’t even sure he wanted to. “I would give you anything, Mellitus… you never have to be afraid to ask. But I demand you take me next time.” He added, his voice a playful tease. “As absolutely magical as that was, I refuse to do all the work every time.”

He could _feel_ Cullen’s laugh, both in the vibrations of his chest and the breath that puffed over his ear. “I would never dream of it. I know how much you despise working.”

“Exactly. Men of my noble and pretentious birth do not _work_. Still… in this case, it was more than worth it.” He snuggled his back further against Cullen’s chest, absently noting that they fit together perfectly, like a puzzle.

“Indeed. I…” His Commander paused, then soldiered on, shrugging one shoulder first. “I was sure that with Bull he was… always uh… on top, as it were. He is not a man who would give up that much control. And obviously with Sylaera-”

“Obviously.” Dorian interrupted, irritated by the mention of the two in that moment. This time was for him and Cullen, damn it, and the blond had no right bringing their other lover’s into their bed.

“I just… I wanted our first time to be different. Special. I wanted it to be _ours_.”

And with that, all of Dorian’s irritation melted away faster than ice on a hot day in Minrathous. It was a bit horrifying, really, how much sway the blond had over his emotions. “It was.” He whispered, not caring that his voice was a bit hoarse and full of feeling. “It was ours, and it was incredibly special.”

Cullen nodded, then buried his face in Dorian’s hair, breathing in deeply. Another silence descended, one in which they cuddled closer, Cullen’s hands wandering in a chaste exploration of Dorian’s upper body as Dorian stroked his arm. The dew of sweat that made their skin glisten began to dry, cooling as it did until Cullen’s heat wasn’t enough to keep the mage from giving a little shiver. Instead of making them move to get under the blankets already on the bed, Cullen wordlessly leaned over Dorian to grab another of those extras, wrapping it around the pair of them in a cocoon.

“Tell me about your tattoo.” The blond murmured, sounding just a little drowsy. “You said you would.”

Better pillow talk than why Cullen seemed to have a few hang-ups about sex for certain, though not by much. Dorian decided to leave the more awful and painful details out.

“From what I gather, you enjoy both women and men sexually, correct?” When Cullen gave a grunt of assent, Dorian nodded. “You would do well in Tevinter. You could marry and get yourself an heir, then indulge in men on the side if you wished. I, however, prefer the company of men exclusively; I’ve no desire to ever have a woman in my bed. Honestly, the thought of it is rather horrifying. Brrrr.” Giving a shiver for effect, he was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

“That is NOT acceptable in Tevinter, especially not for an Altus who is an only child. I am where the Pavus line will end if I don’t get some poor woman with child. My father was… displeased when I told him that I refused to do such a thing.” Such an understatement, and Dorian felt hurt and anger bubbling up in his chest; he chased the feelings away by focusing on the happiness he felt laying there with his Commander. “He once called me a viper, one who was betraying centuries of lineage, who was a disgrace to everyone who had ever held the name Pavus. He’s very dramatic, you see, even more so than I.”

“I can’t imagine that’s true. You’re exceptionally theatrical.”

“Yes, well, I had to learn from someone. Anyway, I didn’t appreciate the name calling; tends to hurt one’s self-esteem, you see. Though I have an awful lot of it, I can’t permit any dents to my pride.” Lifting his right arm, he studied the tattoo, knowing Cullen was doing the same. “Besides, I like snakes. They’re always changing; when they outgrow their situations, they shed their skin and become an even more magnificent version of themselves. Perhaps some of them are poisonous, but I’ve met none who are malicious – they simply are what they are, just as I am what I am. I was not going to let him take that from me.”

“So you got the tattoo.” Cullen’s voice was soft and full of pride, and Dorian felt his heart swell again. His Mellitus _understood_ , and sounded like he appreciated the way the mage had decided to deny his father’s angry words.

“Well, no. I spent a year or two astoundingly drunk and sleeping with any man that would have me, lashing out at my father the best way I knew how. Easier than thinking, you know. It was only when Alexius found me and pulled me out of my drunken stupor that I really thought about it, then went and had this done. Disgustingly expensive, but worth it.”

“Indeed. It’s beautiful.” Unwrapping his arm, Cullen put his hand against Dorian’s elbow, then brought his fingers down over the snake and Dorian’s arm in a tender caress. On reaching his hand, the man closed his own around it, locking their fingers together. He held on as he brought Dorian’s arm back down, wrapping it around the mage’s own waist with his arm covering it. “You’re beautiful. And whatever your father thinks…” Trailing off, Cullen pressed a sweet kiss to the back of Dorian’s neck. “You are a disgrace to nothing, and I like who you are.”

“Oh? And who am I?”

“You’re Dorian. Magnificent dresser, excellent letter writer, ruggedly handsome and not at all scary mage who worries over my health.” Under the teasing tone was a level of affection Dorian had seldom known, and a sense that Cullen did indeed like him for exactly who he was.

“What did you do, memorize my letters?” The lighthearted question was meant to hide the way Dorian was rather choked up, tears starting to form in his eyes. He was not going to cry, not over his father or Cullen’s tender words; he absolutely refused.

“Not the entirety of them, no. But the silly titles you gave yourself are hard to forget.”

“Something Felix and I started years ago, a way to make fun of the pompousness that runs rampant in Tevinter.”

“Have you fallen into the habit of doing that with everyone?”

“No. Only with people I...” Clearing his throat, Dorian forced himself to finish that sentence with the truth. “People I trust and care about. I’m not wasting my wit on fools I can’t stand, after all.”

“I care about you too, Dorian.” Cullen answered, focusing on the important part of Dorian’s words without getting sucked into his playful banter.

“Yes, well. You’d be a fool not to – I am perhaps the most perfect male specimen to ever grace Thedas.”

“Of course you are.”

“I do love how you indulge me.”

“It’s either that or choke you.”

Delighted, Dorian began to laugh and was joined in short order by Cullen, the blond giving him an affectionate squeeze. When the sound died down, his Commander gave a soft sigh, squirming a moment to find a comfortable position. The quiet of the night outside their tower fell over them, and Dorian found himself yawning as sleep called his name.

“Goodnight, Dorian.” Cullen whispered in his ear, pressing a soft kiss there before he laid his head down on the pillow.

“Night Mellitus. Remember, you’re not to leave this bed before the bell and horn sound.”

“Yes Dorian.”

“I’ll try not to steal all the blankets.”

“But you will.”

“Probably. I might be able to refrain from kicking though.”

“Go to sleep, Dorian.”

“Yes Mellitus.”


	13. Morning Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Dorian has acknowledged his growing affection toward Cullen, he wants to make sure his Mellitus is taken care of. Unfortunately, setting things in motion means a very full morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy chapter. ^.^
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting and bestowing your kudos upon me! <3

The morning after their delicious interlude, Dorian didn’t wake before Cullen - he enjoyed sleeping in too much, and his Commander liked to be up and about as early as he could manage. In fact, the mage didn’t stir at all until he heard first that obnoxious bell that was louder here than in his room and the less irritating call of a horn. Strong arms gave him a tight squeeze, drawing a sleepy murmur and smile before Cullen leaned over him. “Morning.” The greeting wasn’t at all rusty or hoarse – the blond had clearly been awake for a while.

“Morning Mellitus.” He croaked in return, peeling his eyes open when the other man brought their foreheads together. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner? We could have frolicked.”

“Ah… while that sounds…” Cullen cleared his throat and looked away, the tips of his ears turning pink; Dorian was beginning to realize that he always blushed there first, even when he managed to keep his cheeks flush-free. “Wonderful, really, I didn’t… I’m not…” Pausing, he gave Dorian a look that was both nervous and almost calculating – the fellow was even beginning to edge back as if he wanted to flee. “The headache is worse, this morning. I was glad to just be able to laze in bed watching you. But I am better now, and I should get ready to meet Cassandra before she begins to worry.” 

The man was acting like the admission would be enough for the mage to start fussing and confine him to bed; Dorian would have scoffed at the notion if the he didn’t think the sudden sound would be all it took to scare Cullen out of the bed without a proper goodbye. “Alright then, run along and have at it. Bash and block and all that other nonsense to your heart’s content. But first...” Rolling over, he reached up and draped his arms over Cullen’s shoulders, tugging his Commander back down. The expression on his face was one of surprised relief, though that quickly shifted into a smile when Dorian brushed a light kiss over his lips. His Mellitus responded with another kiss, and while he focused on that, the mage slid his fingers into that coarse blond hair – more curly than wavy in the morning before the man set it to rights.

This time, his clever fingers didn’t simply stroke the man’s locks or begin a light scalp massage; instead, he quickly located the pressure points situated near the temples, applying firm, gentle pressure there even when Cullen drew back from their kiss in surprise. At first the warrior seemed a bit irritated at the ‘trick’, but as that steady hold began to work its natural magic, he noticeably relaxed. “I learned this at the first Circle I studied in.” He told Cullen with a small smile. “Headaches are a frequent consequence of scholarly pursuits, you know… or drunken ones, which were the sort I dabbled in more often than I should admit. The relief won’t last longer than an hour or so, but it’s better than suffering through it or plying yourself with elfroot potions during that time.”

“I… thank you Dorian.” Cullen murmured, then gave a scowl that was entirely playful and made Dorian feel like every butterfly in Thedas had just made their fluttering home in his stomach. “But next time, tell me what you’re about. I won’t be tricked by kisses.”

“Even if you enjoy the kisses and I would have given them anyway?”

“Hm. Fair point. I suppose such trickery isn’t the worst thing in the world.” Dorian gradually eased his grip, and Cullen dropped his head to rest his forehead against the mage’s. “I was afraid you’d turn into a hen and try to keep me in bed all day like some sort of… invalid.”

“Perish the thought.” Releasing his hold entirely, Dorian slid his hands forward, framing the man’s face carefully. “I will worry for you, Mellitus, but… you know your body better than I. I trust that you know your own limits. If I am proven wrong, of course, there will be smiting of a far different kind than you are used to.” He teased, rewarded with a soft chuckle from the other man. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t’ try to hide your pain, however. It won’t make me cluck at you, and sometimes I can be of some small assistance. Now.” Before things could get horribly sentimental, he leaned up and gave Cullen one last kiss, then smacked his left shoulder. “You have an appointment to keep, and the Seeker will kill _me_ if you don’t make it. I don’t fancy dying that way, Cullen.”

Laughing softly, his face more relaxed than it had been earlier, the blond pulled away and left the bed, stretching as he stood. Dorian admired the play of supple skin over hard muscle, the dappled light coming in through the roof only enhancing the view. Moving to his stomach, Cullen’s pillow now resting under his chest and head, he watched the blond as he went through his morning ablutions. They seemed ridiculously simple compared to his own, and he marveled at the fact.

“Do you not even _shave_?” he demanded in astonished horror, eyes slightly wide.

Cullen’s ears blushed and his cheeks followed suit as he looked over, shrugging with his hands still buried in now-wavy hair to finish the ‘style’. “I had wanted to grow a beard, just before I came to Haven. I… I fear it is not meant to be. I do not grow facial hair as well as some people.”

“By the Maker, man. How long has it been since you’ve seen a razor? And is that really all you have to show for it?”

“I don’t care to discuss it at the moment, as it will turn into a debate and then something else entirely, and Cassandra will kill us both. So hush.”

“Yes Mellitus.” He sounded doubtful and a bit wary, and he knew it. Dorian managed to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the short process, until Cullen was dressed and ready to go; all he would need to do is pull on those bits of his armor and that dreadful cloak. “You’re… you’re _done_?”

“Yes. Not all of us have to make sure our hair is perfectly coiffed and our faces baby-smooth – excepting any mustaches, of course. I’m certainly not going to line my eyes in kohl.”

“I should hope not. You’d look ridiculous.”

“But when you do it-”

“I make everything fabulous. And don’t tell me the effort isn’t worth it either – I am stunning when completely put together.”

”You aren’t at all ‘put together’ right now and you’re still stunning. The effort isn’t wasted, but you don’t need to do it in order to look good.” Cullen answered with a shrug, then grinned over at Dorian, a tiny sparkle in his eyes. “I do believe you’re blushing.”

“I do believe you are _late_ , Mellitus. Don’t you have some whacking to do?”

“Yes dear.” He teased, winking at the darker man. Where he seemed gratified by the darkening of the flush on Dorian’s cheeks, the mage himself was mortified by the fact even as he reveled in the playful endearment. Sensing he was at a loss for words, his Commander crossed back to the bed, confident stride carrying him across the floor in only a few steps. He took Dorian’s chin in hand, tipping his head back as he leaned down and captured Dorian’s mouth in a firm yet tender kiss. “I shall see you this evening, Dorian.” He purred softly, then turned and left the platform that served as his room, swinging down the ladder as easily as Dorian could manage. 

Fighting the urge to laugh and roll around the bed in happiness, Dorian hid his face in that ghastly, sensible pillow and breathed in Cullen’s scent. He longed to lounge there for the usual ‘nap’ he took after the bell startled him awake… but he had things to do. And as much as he loved to sleep in, his plans his Commander took precedence. So as soon as he heard one of the doors beneath him shut, he forced himself out of bed, dressing quickly before he could change his mind. Before he left, he took a moment to fix his hair and smooth his mustache – only his Mellitus could be allowed to see him in such disarray, after all.

~.~.~

By the time the midday meal rolled around, Dorian had already accomplished a great deal… which made him feel equal parts accomplished and disgusted with himself. After visiting his room to put himself together, he’d stopped by the Undercroft. There, he had an exhausting talk with the infallibly cheerful Dagna and traded a few barbed words with the Blighted smith who still flat-out refused to do any of the specialty work on his staff that Dorian asked of him. His world had gotten immeasurably better since the chatty dwarf arrived – she loved getting involved in his projects, improving his weapon _and_ discussing theory. He enjoyed his visits with her… they just usually happened much later in the day. 

Still, she’d agreed to both his requests with enthusiasm, gushing about how wonderful it would be to collaborate on a more concentrated, in-depth study of regular lyrium along with her scrutiny of the ‘red stuff’ and in the same breath promised to have all the glass globes he wanted done and etched with the proper runes by the time afternoon rolled around because she was so thrilled to have something so interesting to work on and she would make the best glass globes she possibly could, and why did he want to study about the effects of lyrium on a non-mage anyway? He’d had to play the mysterious Tevinter mage at that question, drawing her in with hushed whispers, cryptic glances and a story he couldn’t keep track of even as he was spinning it.

The darling woman ate it up even knowing it was pure theater, giggling and gasping at all the right places, eyes glowing with good cheer. She really was a wonder, and the childlike glee with which she threw herself into her work reminded him of himself, back when he’d first begun his apprenticeship with Alexius. After promising effusively that her name would come first in any academic papers they published together, he left her with a wink, exchanging a glare with Harritt on his way out.

He was nearly late to his meeting with Solas – the elf had been, of course, unimpressed with that – but comported himself well after the near miss. He was declared ‘possibly teachable’ after an hour’s work. After that, Solas promptly waved him away, the brusque gesture not entirely matching the almost-smile on his lips. Though naturally curious, Dorian decided he had no intention of _ever_ trying to unravel the mystery that was Solas.

Immediately after that, he’d had to track down his favorite recruit-turned-spy. When he finally did, Kattrin threw herself at him with a squeal, hugging him tightly. It was nice to have another person at Skyhold who did find his presence inherently offensive and even seemed to like him, especially since she wasn’t part of the ‘Inner Circle’. They’d walked arm in arm through the corridors of the keep as he filled her in on his plot, keeping her on-schedule even as they schemed. And she was such a _good_ schemer – though not quite up to Tevinter standards, she could almost be Orlesian.

And now here he was, strolling by the tavern on his way to find Cassandra. The place made him think of Bull, but the thought wasn’t quite as painful as it had been before. Not when he was fairly certain he knew what needed to be done when the Qunari returned. Such thoughts weren’t important at the moment, however, not when his attention was narrowing in on the dark haired woman hacking away at some poor training dummy like it had said unspeakable things about her parentage. She was clearly in a good mood.

Dorian made sure to come at her from an angle where she would see his approach; when he was close enough to talk but out of immediate reach of her blade, he paused, arms crossed over his chest. The Seeker, of course, kept him waiting. He was forced to watch several more repetitions of lunge-slash-retreat-slash-block-imaginary-sword-jump-slash before she finally threw down her practice sword with a snort of disgust.

“What do you _want_ Dorian? I am a very busy woman.”

“Well obviously – I can see that, what with all the whacking about you’re doing with the dummy. On a related note, have you met a chap named Nylan?”

“Dorian, I have no time for your antics. Do you wish something of me, or are you merely trying to irritate me?”

“If I can do both I’ll be delighted, but if I have to pick one… well. I do have a bit of a favor to ask you. Not anything complicated or blood mage-y, I promise.”

“Ugh. I apologized for that accusation and you know it. What is this favor?”

“I find your accent delightful, you know. I’d love to learn Nevarran.”

“That could be arranged. I will not teach you, but perhaps something could be done.” There was a small smile on her face, though she was trying to hide it as she tugged at her gloves, adjusting the fit. “May I assume that was not the favor you wanted to ask?”

“No, no. Just an impulse – I got carried away by the moment. I actually wanted to ask something very different.”

“I will not tell you anything about Cullen.” The Seeker’s judgement was delivered swiftly and succinctly, steel entering her eyes as she looked Dorian in the face. “Not only do I have doubts as to how this will end, I will not betray his trust. Is that what you wanted, Dorian?”

“Well. I mean…” Trailing off, he blinked at her several times, then rubbed the back of his neck. If he didn’t know how much she secretly adored romance and drama, he might have been frightened off. Instead, he laughed, spreading his arms wide. “You caught me! But I don’t want to know any of his deep, dark little secrets – I wouldn’t want them from anyone but him.” Already her expression was softening, her guard not quite so high anymore. Good; she might actually help him. “Honestly, I’m at a bit of a loss. We’ve spent time together, yes, but I still don’t know so many of the little things. It’s almost lunch, you see.”

“What? Lunch? I… suppose that is true, yes.” Cassandra was the one who seemed thrown now, her head cocking to the left as she watched him. “But what does that have to do with Cullen? The Commander rarely- oh. Oh!” Delight entered the Seeker’s voice as she made the connection – he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d clapped her hands together and bounced. Though she fidgeted, however, she otherwise managed to keep her composure. Her gaze was soft now, a wistful smile on her face. “Will you take him for a picnic? I always thought that would be a wonderful way to spend time with someone I cared for.”

Dorian wanted so very, very badly to suggest she go on one with Varric… but another tussle with the woman would cut into the timing of his plan, and he might not get his information. He was becoming so much more restrained during his time here – perhaps the south wasn’t entirely barbaric after all.

“No, dear lady, no picnics. I’m such a delicate flower, and it’s so very cold up here on the mountain. No no, I think it best we keep most of our activities indoors for now.”

“Oh. That is… too bad. I could have let you borrow a blanket and a basket. It would have been perfectly lovely, Dorian.”

His mustache twitched as he smiled, taking in the woman who was now gazing at the sky with stars in her eyes. “For you, when you find someone you care for, I’m sure it will be absolutely magnificent. It is a pretty picture, Cassandra, just not right for my Commander and I.”

“ _Your_ Commander?” Both strong brows lifted in surprise, Cassandra stared at him before her expression shifted into something he wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with. She didn’t seem angry at least, but now she was _interested_ in a way she hadn’t been before. “So he is yours now Dorian? That is quite the statement. Does Cullen know of this?”

“Figure of speech, I assure you.” He answered blithely, lifting a hand in a dismissive gesture in an attempt to hide his nerves. “Just slipped out.” Maker, now she looked even _more_ intrigued, like she’d caught the scent of his feelings and was about to hound him. “That isn’t really the important part, Seeker. You see, I wanted to know what kinds of food he favors. I know he enjoys fruit, but that’s all. Since the cook isn’t overly fond of me-”

“I heard you nearly killed him once.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I… alright, I once shot a fireball at him. He startled me! It was my first night in Haven and I was a bit jumpy, and he… that really is not the issue at hand. Focus, if you please Seeker. Focus. What does the man enjoy eating? General preferences, mind, at least for right now. There’s no time to have anything special made, but that Blighted cook always has a few different options available. Do be a dear and hurry though. Kattr- that is… I have an associate that will lure him away soon, and I want to get the food into his dismal little tower before he realizes the trick and storms back. It’s a surprise, after all.”

“Oh _Dorian_.” Another time, he might have found the utter rapture in her voice more amusing. Just then, it was all he could do not to snap his fingers in front of her face. Still, she seemed to catch on to his frustration, clearing her throat before starting to speak again. “Forgive me. It is simply very… sweet of you. Unexpected. I hadn’t thought you at all serious about this. You don’t seem the type.”

“Apparently I am, so can you please, please tell me what I’d like to know? Time is rather of the essence.” Besides, she was embarrassing him, and he needed to leave before things got even worse. Maker, another few minutes and they’d be curled up together under a tree in the garden, giggling and discussing their future mates and crying over the ecstasy of heartbreak. He needed to leave – he had a reputation to maintain.

“Let me think… Cullen likes spices, I believe, now that he’s been exposed to more of them. He is a soldier, after all – I am sure he has experienced trail rations. They are bland and terrible.” Remembering he’d said exactly the same thing the last time they’d traveled with Sylaera together, Cassandra ignored his arched brows and hastened to correct herself. “They are convenient, however, and more than enough to keep one alive. They simply lack… character. When he can, the Commander likes to indulge in things that have-”

“Flavor?”

“Yes, Dorian. Thank you. You already know he likes fruit… he was always bringing it to the war room when we discussed things in Haven.”

“Do you miss it? Being part of the discussions, I mean?”

“I…” Cassandra paused, thinking about that as she turned her eyes back to the sky again. “I had thought I would. But now… I worry, Dorian. I had not expected the Inquisition to take the path it has. I think it is better I do not have to listen to how the decisions are made. She does not often listen to me anymore, after all.” Dorian nodded in understanding, running his fingers over his mustache. He almost replied in a more serious way, but then he remembered the plan. He did want to speak of this, but… it would have to be later.

“Are we having a _moment_ , Seeker?”

“I believe so. I did not find it entirely distasteful.”

“I think we might be friends. I think you might _like_ me.”

“I think not.” That little smile hovered on her lips, however, and he knew that while ‘friends’ was an overreach, she felt no true hostility towards him. “Back to the Commander. He also likes things that will stick to his ribs.”

“Sounds unpleasant.”

“Things like stew, Dorian. Or meat pies. Things that are filling and warm. Ferelden is freezing, after all.”

“Ahhh. I see.” He considered for a moment, then nodded. “That’s enough to be going on, I think. Thank you, Cassandra.” When he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, the woman seemed utterly poleaxed, clapping her hand over the spot and staring at him.

“I... you…” He laughed and winked, then turned to leave… but was stopped by the hand she laid on his arm. “I hope that things go well for you, Dorian. For you and for Cullen. I will be rooting for you.” She gave him a smile that dazzled, and he realized that she was lovely when she wasn’t working so hard to be dour and serious. “If he is yours, you will take care of him as much as he takes care of you.”

“And if I don’t, you’ll kill me.”

“You knowing that already saves me a great deal of explanation and threatening.”

They were both laughing when Dorian left, though hers was far more subdued than his own. The Seeker was most definitely on his Commander’s side… but she _wasn’t_ on the Inquisitor’s, not in this. Her loyalty to Cullen trumped her ties with Sylaera, and she thought he was the better choice for her friend. That… that was comforting, and had him moving closer and closer towards true certainty. This was going to be alright… _they_ were going to be alright.

Looking back on all he’d accomplished so far in a single day, Dorian was more pleased with himself than disgusted. Waking up at a so-called ‘decent’ hour might be worth the trouble. He still wasn’t going to, of course, or at least not on a regular basis, but now he didn’t think Cullen and Cassandra quite so foolish. A slight spring in his step, the mage turned and headed for the kitchens, ready to grovel to the miserable old cook so he could feed his Mellitus a proper lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted someone to be firmly in the Cullrian camp before the Inquisitor comes back. XD We all need a bit of support, after all.
> 
> The next chapter will be lunch, possibly a bit of smuttiness, and the continuation of Dorian's sneaky plans. After that, maybe one more chapter and then... Inquisitor return?
> 
> Thoughts? XD


	14. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen reacts to one surprise, and Dorian begins work on another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna go for a bit of smuttiness, but it didn't happen. XD Next chapter prolly tho!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting and kudos-ing. <3 I'm so glad so many people seem to be enjoying this story!

Dorian and the cook were never going to be friendly, but the cranky man _did_ have a soft spot for Cullen. The blond had saved his wife and daughter during the mess at Haven, and now the cook would do absolutely anything for him in return. Even if he had to do that favor through Dorian.

So despite the hostility between them, the cook – who had a _name_ of all things, though it was a terrible one – put together a good, hearty meal for his Mellitus. Dorian felt a bit badly at refusing Cassandra’s basket once he had one borrowed from the kitchen dangling on his left arm. He’d forgotten he’d need something to transport the meal in; she would have loved to be involved. Next time, he promised himself as he climbed up the stairs leading to the wall. Next time.

He was surprised to see a recruit standing guard outside Cullen’s study – had something dire happened? That wouldn’t do at all. Cullen would never eat if the world were in immediate peril. The young man didn’t seem distraught, however, and when Dorian caught his eye, he winked and waved him inside… where he got another shock.

It wasn’t only Kattrin waiting for him: she was directing two other recruits as they placed a small table and two chairs. “Not there, ya silly sod. Door’d whack our poor Commander right in ‘is ‘ead if it opened all sudden-like. Bring it forward a mite. Dorian!” Again, the open welcome on her face was like a balm to his soul. Between Dagna and his new favorite recruit, dealing with the dislike of almost everyone else in Skyhold was becoming easier.

“Ah, my darling spy. You are aware this was supposed to be a secret, yes?” At his mock-severe look, she grinned widely, showing off the slight gap between her front teeth and her generous dimples.

“Couldn’t move all this m’self, could I? These gents’re all right, you’ll see. Won’t say a peep to nobody. Brenner here’s even gonna watch one of the doors.” She stepped a bit closer to him, voice lowering to a whisper. “Bit simple though. Follows orders an’ all, but ‘e ain’t a thinker. I put ‘im on the door to the rookery.” The door with the least amount of likely traffic; ‘simple’ Brenner would be more an honor guard than anything.

“I’ve already seen the other guard… so you’ll be on the door that leads to the tavern?” The most heavily used path; whoever was stationed there would almost certainly turn at least one person away during Cullen’s lunch… or let them in if the situation genuinely warranted it.

“’Course! Like I’d trust that to any of these lads, fine as they are. I work with the Commander every day, don’t I? I know what ‘e’d need to know ‘bout all quick-like, and what can wait.” Her movements were brisk and practiced when she reached out and took the basket from him and then began to lay the table. “’e’ll relax easier knowing I’m out there. ‘e’d feel even better with Nylan, but I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with that.”

“Smart girl.” Watching her efficient and precise motions, Dorian was rather impressed. He’d have fussed a lot more, and the table would have ended up looking much the same. “Done this before, have you?”

“Well… yeah. Got three little brothers at ‘ome. I been ‘elping out my ma and da with the chores since I was just a little mite m’self. B’sides, setting a table’s easy. Maybe not for you noble types, I guess.”

“Well this ‘noble type’ thanks you for your aide. How did you get Cullen to leave?”

“Got a mage friend who’s been ‘aving a bit of trouble with one of those Templar chaps – nothing too bad, I guess, but enough to make ‘er uneasy. Didn’t want me to be saying anything, so I ‘eld my peace. Got another friend who fancies ‘er, see, and who’d be awful eager to pound the shite outta anyone who bothers ‘er. All three mighta ended up in the same place at the same time, a fight mighta started, and the Commander mighta ‘ad to leave the practice yard to go sort it all out. That Templar’ll be dealt with, my friends might get a bit cozy, and the Commander was occupied for a good jot of time.” As the two recruits doing her bidding laughed under their breaths, Kattrin sent him a proud grin. “Worked out pretty good, to my way of thinking.”

“… I was wrong. You would do just fine in Tevinter, I think, with a little guidance. I insist you let me steal you away when this is all over. We’ll take the Imperium by storm, you clever thing.” Kattrin beamed at him a moment, then shoved the empty basket at one of the recruits and motioned him toward the door. Giving the same indulgent smile that Cullen often used, he offered her a playful salute and left the tower, glancing back at the woman before he closed the door behind him. “Admirer of yours?”

“Mm. Wants me to marry ‘im, when it’s over. Might say yes.” Her words were casual, but the light in her eyes was far more telling.

“Well he’s more than welcome to come to Tevinter too. Bring your whole family, if you’d like, in fact. Far better than living with mine. Now – and don’t take this the wrong way – out! I’m sure it won’t take Cullen long to sort out the bit of havoc you’ve caused, and I’d like to soothe his savage mood by myself.” Snickering, Kattrin shooed the recruit he now knew was Brenner to his post; before she took her own, she caught Dorian up in a swift hug that had warmth spreading through his chest. She really was a dear woman.

Once he was alone, there was little for Dorian to do but wait. He carefully settled a warming spell over their plates in case it took a bit of time for his Mellitus to return, then wandered over to the man’s bookcase. Almost everything in it was on war and strategy and other boring, useless subjects; carefully tucked in among all of that, as if he was trying to hide it in plain sight, was a book on the penultimate Ferelden beast: the Mabari. It had clearly been read several times, the spine creased and the pages wrinkled – some had even been folded over. Dorian was not generally a fan of dogs, but… well. Better than reading about people beating each other about the face with their metal sticks.

When Cullen finally stormed through the door, Dorian was sitting in one of the borrowed chairs, deeply involved in his borrowed book. Hearing said door slam, he started in his seat, then looked up at Cullen with a warm smile. It didn’t falter even in the face of the dark look on the blonde’s face or the stiff, jilted way the man was yanking off his gloves. Moving with ease, Dorian set the book down and stood, starting to cross the floor to his Mellitus.

“What in the Maker’s name is going on, Dorian?” Cullen’s voice was sharp with displeasure, a deep furrow etched between his brows; Dorian suspected his headache had come back with a vengeance. “First I am called away to deal with some ridiculous dispute, and then I find Kattrin ‘guarding’ my study. I watched her send away a runner carrying a report I’d been expecting. She would tell me nothing, only to come in here. I asked you not to steal her, Dorian, and I will know what you’re on about with this… this farce.”

To emphasize his words and irritation, he threw his gloves onto his desk, still scowling at the mage. Just before Dorian reached him, the blond crossed his arms over his chest, effectively creating a barrier between himself and any affectionate overture the other might make. Rolling his eyes, Dorian leaned up anyway and brushed a brief kiss over one unyielding cheek.

“Mellitus-“

“Do not start with me, Dorian. I have actual _work_ to do, unlike some here at Skyhold.”

“And you also need to eat.” Dorian answered, more sharply than he’d meant to. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to center himself, smoothing his mustache as well. Cullen was in pain, he reminded himself, which was enough to make anyone grumpy. “I know that you never take the time for lunch, Mellitus. I thought to surprise you with it today, and to eat with you. That’s what this ‘farce’ is about.” When he gestured to the table, Cullen seemed to notice it for the first time; the man stared at it for long moments, blinking, his scowl easing just a little bit.

“I… that’s…” Visibly shoring himself up, he looked back to Dorian, glare not quite as severe as it had been. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but you can’t…” His eyes slid back to the table, and the mage thought the tips of his ears were turning just a little bit pink. “You can’t just decide to… is that one of Gustave’s special meat pies? No. That’s not the point. I have work to do, Dorian. Very important work. You cannot lock me away for the afternoon to… to… why are you reading that book? And are there _turnovers_? I… no. There’s no time. I must ask you to leave.”

“I’ve no intention of locking you away all afternoon, Cullen.” Dorian soothed, stepping forward. His hands went to Cullen’s shoulders and began to rub gently, trying to ease the man’s anxiety. “And if there is anything truly urgent that needs to be dealt with, Kattrin or one of the others will bring it to your attention immediately. I simply wanted to eat with you in peace, so they’ll keep away the things that can wait. What was the report she sent away earlier? Was it absolutely imperative?”

“… no. No I suppose it wasn’t.” Slowly, the man was relaxing, and he seemed more and more interested in the food on the table. As Dorian suspected, it was harder to deny you were hungry when you could see and smell what you were missing out on.

“And the dispute wasn’t so ridiculous, was it? Though Kattrin somehow arranged for it all to come to a head at the most opportune time, the Templar had been harassing that girl, hadn’t he?”

“Yes.” Now there was a sour twist to his mouth, anger deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. “I wish someone had told me sooner. If he’s been bothering her I’m sure there are others, and that is unacceptable. We have so few former Templars that escaped Corypheus’ clutches – those that remain _must_ understand that even if the mages were not offered a full alliance, they are to be treated with respect.”

As he spoke, Dorian was able to gently herd him to the table; with a small bit of reluctance, his Commander sat and looked over their feast. “I’m sorry for making you angry, Mellitus. From now on I’ll just instruct the cook… Gustave… to send someone with food around this time. I shan’t darken your doorway or plot surprises anymore, I promise.” Standing behind the man, Dorian rested his fingers on those pressure points he’d found that morning, pressing down firmly to try and alleviate the headache he was sure was the main source of much of Cullen’s irritation. “Just let me do this for you, and then I shall take my leave, if you’d like, and tell my make-shift guards to let in anyone who wishes to see you. You can eat or not as you wish. May I borrow that book?”

“That wasn’t what I… I didn’t mean…” Tension was quickly leaving his body, and Dorian knew he didn’t imagine the relieved sigh that left his Commander’s lips as his headache began to ease. “I did not mean to be so ungrateful, Dorian. It’s just been a wretched morning, and my head…”

“I know, Mellitus. If you want, I can leave and have Kattrin keep everyone out anyway so you can eat and rest a little. I promised I wouldn’t nag or cluck and I won’t, but… you are…” For a moment, Dorian stopped, a bit unsure how much of his hand he wanted to reveal in the moment. “You are important to the Inquisition. To… to me, actually. Please let me take care of you, if only a little. You’re so terrible at doing it yourself.”

Cullen let out a rueful chuckle, his anger and irritation apparently gone. “I am, aren’t I? I apologize, Dorian. I…” He paused, and the mage got to watch his ears go pink again. “I should not have…”

“No, no. I should apologize. I... haven’t ever really done something like this before. I probably didn’t do it correctly – despite my magnificence, I do make the occasional mistake. Next time I try, my surprise won’t infuriate you, I promise. How’s your head, Mellitus?”

“It didn’t… I wasn’t...” Heaving a sigh, Cullen took hold of his wrists and gently tugged his hands away. “My head is fine, thank you. After we eat, will you show me how to do that? I tried earlier, but I couldn’t find the proper spot. I only made it worse.”

“Of course. I should have done so this morning – terribly thoughtless of me.”

“You are the farthest thing from thoughtless.” Quicker than Dorian would have thought possible, Cullen half-turned and took hold of him, then dragged him into his lap. He hated the yelp of surprise he gave, but he loved the way Cullen’s arms wrapped tightly around him, and how the blond buried his face in his neck. “It takes me a while to ease into a surprise.” The other man murmured against his skin. “Thank you for being patient with me. Syl- … most people I know would have gotten angry in turn.”

“As I’ve explained before, I am far better than ‘most people’.” Dorian answered as he lifted his head to a haughty angle, ignoring the not-quite-reference to the Inquisitor. “I am a man among men, and you southerners should feel absolutely blessed by my presence among you.”

“Indeed.” Lifting his head, Cullen kept one arm around the mage as he leaned forward, grabbing the plate in front of him. Since the man seemed ready to start their meal, Dorian made to leave his lap; instantly, the blonde’s arm tightened and he put his lips to Dorian’s temple. “Stay?”

“So long as you eat.”

“Yes dear.”

“Stop that.” Dorian demanded, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “You only do it to fluster me.” Cullen’s only answer was a grin as they shifted in the shared seat – thankfully, Skyhold chairs were sturdy chairs. Dorian ended up sitting across Cullen’s lap, the blond supporting his back and holding the plate in his lap steady. It was the mage’s job to feed the both of them, ferrying bites to his Commander and taking an occasional one for himself. The meat pie was, in fact, very good; Dorian felt bad he’d always dismissed it out of hand because it looked absolutely disgusting. Between those bites, they exchanged kisses and talked – Cullen told him more about his childhood in Honnleath, and Dorian confessed that he’d always wished for a sibling of his own. After laughingly refusing to take Mia off Cullen’s hands, he told the blond a bit about Circles in Tevinter. Before it had been a touchy subject between them, but now his Mellitus seemed genuinely interested instead of mildly unnerved, asking questions that drew more information out of the mage.

By the time they had finished Cullen’s turnover (apple spice, which had the warrior nearly delirious with happiness) and grabbed Dorian’s to share as well, he was convinced the surprise lunch had been a success. His Commander was smiling, the little lines of tension and anger gone from his face. The man was fed and had taken a break, managing to ignore the needs of the Inquisition for almost an hour so he could look after his own. It was a good step, in his personal opinion, even if he’d had to drag the man into it kicking and screaming.

Still, he knew that if Cullen didn’t get back to work soon, he’d probably work all night to make up the difference.

So after his Mellitus had accepted the last of the turnover from him, nibbling his fingers in the process, Dorian gave a soft sigh. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, you have important work to do. Coincidentally, so do I – we’re all such very important people here in the Inquisition, aren’t we?” The blond rolled his eyes, but a smile was tugging at one side of his mouth. Leaning in, Dorian brushed a soft kiss over the scar there, then put his forehead to Cullen’s. “Join me in my room tonight?” he asked quietly, wrapping his arms about the other man’s shoulders. “If you’d rather sleep in yours, we can, but... come eat supper with me there. Also, to help you ease into it, there will be another surprise, but it’s nothing awful, I promise.”

“Thank you for the warning.” Cullen teased back, letting the plate fall to the floor in favor of hugging him tighter – Dorian fully approved of the choice. “I certainly won’t be distracted trying to think of what the surprise might be for the rest of the day.”

“That’s because you are a man of strength and willpower, Mellitus. So much better than most. Not me, of course, as I am a paragon – and I might mean that literally. Dwarves are very fond of me, you know. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a giant statue of me down in Orzammar.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s true.”

“You wound me. Someday Mellitus, I’m going to take you to Orzammar, and you’ll see tha-” Being silenced with a kiss really was the best way to be told to shut up, Dorian decided. Especially when it came from Cullen, who kissed with a fervent need he found just a little awe-inspiring. No one had _ever_ kissed him the way his Commander did.

When Cullen finally pulled away, they were both breathing a bit heavier, and Dorian knew he needed to leave; the blond seemed to realize it to. “I’ll come to your quarters once my work is done then.” He told the mage roughly, hands gentle as he lifted him out of his lap. On his feet, Dorian smiled down at him, then reached out and took hold of the other man’s hands.

“Here. Let me show you the proper place to press. It’s most effective if someone else does it for you – teach Nylan and Kattrin, or I can, if you’d like.” Guiding Cullen’s fingers, he taught the man how to give his headaches some small, temporary relief. “If you’re in a meeting with someone or in the war room doing important Commander-type things and cant’ show weakness, you can also pinch the web between your thumb and forefinger – either side. It doesn’t work as well for me, but some of my peers swore by it.” At Cullen’s dubious look, Dorian grinned and shrugged. “Amazing what we learn when healing magic is in short supply and elfroot potions are even more bitter than my mother.”

At that, Cullen let out a surprised bark of laughter, shaking his head. “If you say so, Dorian. Now go – do whatever it is you have to do. I will see you tonight.” He brought Dorian’s right hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over the man’s knuckles, their eyes locked. “Thank you for lunch, and for staying even when I was being an absolute bear.”

“I’m met bears, Mellitus. Your growl is much sexier.”

“I… thank you? Maker, Dorian, you say the oddest things.” His Commander was bright red, but he was doing an otherwise admirable job of pretending he wasn’t flustered. “Take your meat pie with you.”

“Yes Mellitus.”

“I’m going to figure out what that means.”

“Of course you are, Mellitus.”

“You could just tell me.”

“I could.”

“I could ask Krem.”

“You could.”

“… I’m going to figure it out.”

“Yes Mellitus.”

~.~.~

Once he’d left Cullen’s tower behind – borrowed book on the Mabari breed in hand, because why not just admit he was as good as a savage now? – he stopped in the garden to finish his lunch and read. He ignored the glares and whispers some shot in his direction; most of them came from those new to Skyhold, and they would fade in time. Silent and vague disapproval was the order of the day most of the time, with those ‘forced’ to interact with him looking as though there was some vile odor they could only just detect on the wind.

He personally thought it was dog.

Against Mother Giselle’s more concrete and glowering disapproval, he set the way Dagna’s eyes lit up when they spoke and the hugs Kattrin gave him when they met. He was making friends here, slowly but surely; someday, people might even stop accusing him of trying to influence the Inquisition with his wicked and wily ways. Honestly. As if anyone told Sylaera Lavellan what to do. When he judged the sun high enough, he shut the interesting tome and headed for the Undercroft. Surely he’d given his dwarven friend enough time to make the few handfuls of glass globes he’d asked for, and he was secure in the knowledge that he would be able to finish the work fairly quickly and get on with the rest of his day.

Dagna had, in fact, completed his order… and then gone entirely too far when there proved to be nothing more interesting to do. When he walked down the steps, it was with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, because the woman was _insane_. Industrious, but absolutely mad. Instead of the two dozen globes the size of his fist that he’d asked for, there were probably three times as many – in all different sizes too. The biggest were probably the size of his head, and he could see a small pile resting on one of her desks that were no bigger than the end of his thumb, resting on velvet to keep them safe.

“Dagna, I…”

“Been working on them all bleeding afternoon, she has.” Oh good, he got to talk to Harritt again. Day complete. “Bothersome and distracting it was. Wish you’d kept your mage stuff out of my forge.”

“It isn’t your forge though, is it? You share the space with Dagna, my dear man. In fact, these days, she actually does the bulk of the work, doesn’t she? Wouldn’t that make it her forge?”

“Silly boys. It isn’t a forge! It’s so much more! Regular forges aren’t nearly so exciting, are they Harritt?”

“Hm.”

“And isn’t it nice that we get to share the space? I love it Dorian. The flow of ideas, the comradery, the way he can make such simple things looks so… so pretty!”

“Hrrrm.”

“See Dorian? He’s thrilled to have me here!”

“No, darling, I think he’s trying not to growl at you. And failing at it too.”

“Maker’s breath. Play with your glass than. I want none of it. Going to the Herald’s Rest.”

“So soon? I’d hoped we might have some tea. I’ll miss you ever so much, Harritt! I do hope you don’t trip over your own feet and fall off the edge of the mountain!”

“Sod off. Fucking mages and their…” Harritt’s grumbling quickly became indistinct as he stalked away, Dorian and Dagna staring after him.

“I think he’s really warming up to you.”

“I think he’d happily watch me die. Ungrateful ass. I was the one who blasted his door open so he could grab his Blighted hammer back at Haven. Archdemon and an ancient magister attack the place, and he worries after a hammer.”

“Dorian, that almost certainly wasn’t a real Archdemon. We talked about this, remember? Remember? With the Inquisitor? She got irritated when we started talking about the possible effects red lyrium would have on an already crazed Old God and left before we arrived at a more reasonable consensus. Remember?”

“I remember. Now tell me about all the glass, sweet.”

“Oh! Well I got started – and it was SO interesting to work with glass again, I can’t even tell you – and I just couldn’t stop! The size you asked for is a great one, don’t get me wrong, but… I just didn’t like feeling so… so limited! First I went smaller, because the artistry required to etch the runes out perfectly in such a small medium… oh my gosh. _Such_ a challenge. I love a challenge!”

“I know you do.” Dorian agreed, mustache twitching as he fought a smile.

“Well, that’s really the only challenging part. About the small ones, I mean. Otherwise, they’ll hold the fire just fine, probably last even longer too. So I started thinking… bigger. And made bigger orbs! Did you see how big I made some of them, Dorian? Just as thin as the small ones, I’ll have you know.”

She looked so proud of herself standing there, beaming up at him with all the force of the sun. “They’re beautiful, Dagna. Delicate as a butterfly’s wing, I’m sure. But I’m not sure the spell I want to use will work with them. It’s a tricky one, you see – it requires just the right amount of power, or the glass will explode in a rather violent way.”

“Oh, that’d be so pretty! Will you show me Dorian? Please? Please?”

Dorian couldn’t help but laugh, and she joined in right away, clapping her hands together and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I won’t mean to sweet, but I’m sure I’ll make at least a few of them explode while experimenting. We can start with the ones I know how to work with and talk about the theory of it… then we can figure out how to modify it together. Hopefully at least one of the little ones will last – I have an idea for those.”

“Oh, this is so exciting! What are you going to use them for? Is it a secret? I bet it’s a secret. And a surprise! Are you going to use them to surprise someone?” As she babbled, Dorian led her to a spot just in front of the glass orbs, then plopped down on the stone floor; uncomfortable, but better than standing for the next few hours. She followed suite, talking all the while. “I’m sure whoever it is, they’ll love it! Dorian, why are you reading a book about dogs? You hate dogs?” Even puzzled, the dwarf sounded incredibly cheerful, and it put him in such a good mood that he decided to be honest.

“That’s true. Unfortunately, I seem to be falling for a man who enjoys them. From the worn quality of this silly thing, I suspect he pines for a Mabari of his very own.”

“Not The Iron Bull?”

“No. Not Bull.”

“Ohhhh… I see. Well! Whoever this new guy is, he’s super lucky! You’re so smart and nice, and I suppose you might be handsome for a human, but I’m not really sure about that sort of thing. Too tall. All I ever really see of most human faces are chins and nose hair.” Dorian choked on a laugh, then reached for one of the properly sized globes. “But you are smart. And I bet if he really wants a Mabari, you’ll get him a Mabari huh? Won’t you? Don’t pretend to scowl, we both know you will. Then he’ll have a Mabari, you’ll get to complain about it and pretend not to like it, and you’ll both be happy!”

“Maker help me, Dagna, but that doesn’t actually sound terrible.”

“Of course not! What are you going to name your dog?”

“It won’t be mine. I would let Cullen name it. I mean… wait, I’m not getting him a dog! There is no dog to name, Dagna.”

“Cullen? Oh, the Commander! He’s nice too, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much. He’s always rubbing his temples and looking bored whenever he comes to see me. I think maybe he thinks I talk too much, which is, I guess, a fair point, but I just get so excited! How do you _not_ talk when there’s so many interesting things to talk _about_? Now show me how the spell works.”

And that, Dorian knew, would be the last thing he heard about Cullen from Dagna unless he brought it up again. Despite her tendency to chatter… she also knew when not to push. A marvelous, peerless dwarf… one who he hoped would be able to help him modify the spell he had in mind before he blew up ALL the smallest and biggest orbs. If not, at least he knew she’d be more than happy to craft some more.


	15. Loving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Cullen spend the evening in the mage's room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, it's been a long couple of days. Sorry for taking so long to post!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, for the kudos and for the comments. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate them! <3

“A bath.”

“Yes.”

“Your surprise for me… is a bath?”

“You sound disappointed, Mellitus.”

“Not disappointed. Perhaps a little insulted, however. I know how to keep myself clean, Dorian.”

“Of course you do. I would not be with an odorous man, so you know _something_ about proper hygiene.”

“And yet… a bath.”

“Maker’s blood, Cullen. Stop focusing on that part. Look at how big the tub is! You haven’t room for one half so nice in your little tower. I thought it would be a nice change. You can sit and soak your weary muscles, _and_ it’s big enough that you won’t have to scrunch up into a ball. You’ll be able to _lounge_ Mellitus. That was the thought behind the surprise.”

“I think you just want to watch me bathe.”

“Well, there is that, yes.”

“This is very strange, you know.”

“Will you just disrobe and get in the water please? I worked very hard on this surprise.”

“That just means you had someone deliver the tub and then fill it with water.”

“Supervising is very difficult, emotionally.”

“Perhaps you need a soak more than I.”

“You begin to annoy.”

Cullen laughed at that, reaching out to wrap his arms around Dorian and pull him close. “Forgive me. I wasn’t trying to annoy you.” At the mage’s arched brow, he grinned and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Well, not much anyway. Though you do look adorable when you’re puffed up with irritation.”

“I do not ‘puff’.”

“Whatever you say, Dorian.”

“Strip, Mellitus.” Dorian leaned up and caught Cullen’s lips with his own, delivering a sweet kiss that wiped the smirk from the blonde’s face. After long moments, he pulled away and sighed quietly, putting their foreheads together.

“Alright. I’ll get in the bath. As surprises go, it isn’t terrible.” Another quick kiss and the two men separated completely; Dorian reached around and gave Cullen a quick swat on the rear to get him going. His Commander laughed and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat, then crossed to the armor stand Dorian had added next to his. “I’m glad you have this – I hate leaving my armor in a pile on the floor.”

“It seemed likely you wouldn’t enjoy that. I thought a stand the best way to go so you didn’t whine at me.”

“I don’t whine, Dorian. I believe you’re thinking of yourself.”

“I remember when you were a shy, retiring man who stammered every time I spoke to you. What happened to that man? Where did he go? How can I bring him back?”

“You don’t want him back.” Cullen accused with a grin as he settled his chest piece on the stand. “You would be bored if he returned.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Mellitus.”

“If that’s what you need to believe, I won’t take it from you.”

“You’re so kind.” Dorian kept an eye on Cullen until he was down to his trousers, then turned away with a regretful sigh. The man could get him aroused all too easily, and he didn’t want to get there too fast. They were going to have a nice, slow, seductive evening without racing to the finish if it killed him. He heard the rustle of cloth that meant his Mellitus was naked and had to fight the urge to turn. And Maker, he wanted to watch the other walk to the tub, but he had to be strong. Keeping his focus on the table instead was difficult, but he managed by busily fussing with the arrangement on it.

The cook – Gustave, he reminded himself, grimacing at the terrible name – had sent one of his workers with their evening meal. It was all meant to be eaten cold, which was nice; he didn’t have to spend all is energy and mana keeping it hot. Once he heard the soft splash that indicated Cullen was in the tub, he turned and couldn’t help but smile at the bliss in his Commander’s expression. Despite his earlier protests, the other man was obviously going to enjoy his soak, something that pleased Dorian to no end.

“I know it’s not big enough for you to join me, but… will you come sit with me at least?”

“Of course, Mellitus. I was just giving you a moment to settle.” After grabbing that silly book about the Mabari, the mage ambled to the tub. Though it was beneath his dignity, Dorian sank to the floor with a boneless grace, leaning back against the iron monstrosity with his legs stretched out before him. As soon as he’d done a few experimental wriggles and gotten himself (almost) comfortable, he felt damp fingers stroke over the back of his neck. The yelp of surprise he let out was embarrassing enough without Cullen laughing at him, and he turned to look at the man with a glare. “If you’re going to continue with that I shall be forced to retaliate.”

Cullen was trying to look serious and failing, the scar on his lip twitching as he fought his smile. “Forgive me. I’ll do my best to refrain.” Except the man didn’t pull his hand away; instead, he slid his hand into Dorian’s hair, ruining the perfect order that he tried so hard to keep it in. “You didn’t answer earlier – why are you reading that book?”

“Your library is remarkably limited. It was this or books about boring battles that I couldn’t care less about. Tell me when you’re ready to wash your hair, by the way. I’ll do it for you.”

“Thank you, I will. And your reasoning made sense while you were in my room, but… you borrowed it. You don’t have to keep reading it. You have access to more books than I even knew existed back in Honnleath.” The man’s strong fingers were so careful and gently as they stroked his hair, making Dorian close his eyes and tip his head back with a soft sigh.

“I suppose that’s true. If I said I don’t like to leave a book unfinished, would you believe me?”

“I would, but I also know there’s more there.”

Later, he would blame the utterly domestic feel of the moment. His Mellitus in the bath with him right beside it, fingers stroking his hair as they talked; dinner was waiting on the table, and they would spend the night together, either in Dorian’s room or Cullen’s. It felt like they’d been in that routine since they’d met, and it so natural that it might go on forever. It was the kind of scene that made him uncomfortable when anyone else was caught doing it, bringing a sneer to his face and a few acerbic words to his tongue. Between himself and Cullen, the domesticity had a very different effect, and that was the only reason why the next exchange went the way it did – or at least, that’s what he would tell himself.

“Well you clearly want one… this has been read an astonishing number of times. You even made little notations, and there was an adorable little sketch about a chapter back of you and what I believe was a Mabari-”

“I didn’t draw that.”

“I might believe you if it wasn’t so clearly labeled with your name.”

“… I was young. Very young.”

“Be that as it may, Mellitus, you can’t deny you want one of these awful, drooling, smelly beasts. I need to be prepared for when we have one.” A moment later, when the fingers in his hair twisted and then went completely still in time with the loud breath Cullen sucked in, Dorian realized his mistake. _Fasta vass_. That was _not_ the sort of statement that someone in his position should make; he didn’t even know if Cullen wanted to continue this thing between them when Sylaera returned. He shouldn’t be making statements that implied they were going to be together indefinitely. “I mean… well, I mean to say that surely there will be some kennel master somewhere who wishes to add to the cause of the Inquisition, and if that happens no doubt you’ll jump on it and bring some smelly hound to our chess game one day. That’s all I meant. I didn’t mean… well. That is to say…”

Nothing. He had absolutely nothing, and he knew it. Instead of admitting the fact out loud, he opened the book to where he’d left off, feeling a disconcerting amount of heat in his cheeks. If Cullen had any decency at all, the blond would ignore his statement and they could move on to a new topic. Or silence. Silence would be just as good, allowing him to read and his Commander to soak.

“Would it be allowed to sleep on our bed?” This was _such_ a bad idea. They didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and making plans given their current circumstance was ridiculous.

“Absolutely not. I already have one brute sleeping with me – I won’t add a second.”

“Not even if she sleeps at the foot of the bed?”

“…” No more socks, no more freezing feet… it had possibilities. “Only if her manners are impeccable. And you want a female dog?”

“Of course. That way the puppies will belong to us.”

“There will be no puppies.”

“You say that now, but once we’ve had her a year or two, you’ll want them.”

“No puppies.”

“Dorian, they aren’t that messy, and they’re absolute-”

“Are you not listening? There will be no puppies milling about my home.”

“It would be our home. Don’t I get a say?” Maker, this silly conversation was making his heart ache. He could see this life they were building clear as crystal in his mind. He _wanted_ that life, and Dorian was sure he would keep yearning for it forever if it didn’t come to pass. It would be how he measured whatever life he ended up in.

“Not when it comes to puppies. Do you know what has to happen to _get_ puppies? First the breeding, which I don’t want happening anywhere near my… our home. Then there’s the _birthing_ , which is a mess all the way around. So there will be no puppies.”

“We’ll talk about it again after we’ve had the first one for a time.”

“Mellitus, I would have a _child_ running about before I allowed puppies.”

“That’s another conversation for another time.” Oh no. That was an even worse conversation that a dog they would own together long enough to have puppies. There was no way he was going there.

“That time does not need to be today. Now do be quiet so I can read this horrible book about those awful beasts.”

“You’ll warm up to her, especially when she works to keep YOU warm.”

“Be that as it may. Hush.”

“Yes Dorian.” He heard water sloshing behind him as Cullen shifted and settled, hand idly carding through Dorian’s hair again. “Read to me.”

“You know this book by heart, I imagine. You don’t need to hear it.”

“I don’t know it in your voice. Please read it to me?” And, unfortunately for the image and persona he’d spent the past twenty plus years crafting, that was all it took.

“Fine. I refuse to start from the beginning, so you’ll simply have to imagine what that part sounds like in my voice. Let’s see… I’m about to learn how to bathe my hypothetical Mabari. How appropriate.” Dorian found himself clearing his throat self-consciously; as if realizing he was unsure, Cullen’s fingers began a gentle scalp massage. “Hmm… ‘With their above-average intelligence, your Mabari knows when it needs a bath. Much like naughty children, they will try to avoid this inevitable dunking. If you’re able, make bath time into a game! Use toys and treats to keep them interested so they don’t run off and leave you with a sudsy tub and no Mabari to use it on…’”

Dorian wasn’t really sure how long they stayed there, Cullen’s fingers buried in his hair; the blond was lightly dozing, though he was awake enough to make the mage start reading out loud again whenever he stopped. Around two chapters in, his Commander finally stirred and cleared his throat. “Does the offer to wash my hair still stand?”

“Of course. Does the water need to be reheated?”

“I… if it isn’t too much trouble, yes.” There it was again, that slight hesitation at the mention of magic; it was going to be trouble if they didn’t address it. He convinced himself it wasn’t time, however, closing the book and setting it aside before he turned to face the tub. His Mellitus looked relaxed and rather happy, his expression so much softer than it usually was. Dorian couldn’t help but put his hands on either side of the tub and lean in, finding Cullen’s mouth with his own. They shared a long, leisurely kiss, both of the blonde’s hands moving to frame Dorian’s face; one was wet from the bath, but the mage didn’t even flinch, letting the water run down his skin without reacting. When they finally separated, Dorian dipped his fingers into the water, calling on just a little of his magic. The lukewarm water heated quickly, and he waited until Cullen gave a deep, happy sigh before he stopped.

Once that was done, he shifted his position until he was kneeling behind the other man, resting his hands briefly on Cullen’s shoulders. “Do I need to give you treats and toys to make sure you don’t run off?” he teased, grinning when the blond tipped his head back to look in his eyes and arch a brow. “Just asking! With Ferelden’s and their dogs, sometimes it feels like they’re one and the same.”

“It must be horrifying to realize you like Fereldens so much then. It means you’ll warm up to our dog faster than you’d like.”

“I don’t like all Fereldens. I like you. Very different things, Mellitus.” Before the other man could reply, he began to wet that coarse blond hair, using his hands as scoops to bring water up. Washing the other man’s hair was a process they both enjoyed; Cullen went completely limp under his massaging hands, and Dorian got to watch it happen. Maybe he wasn’t good at grand gestures, and maybe he couldn’t bring himself to rearrange his room to suit the other man’s tastes… but he could do this. Small things that showed he cared, ways to take care his Commander and make his life a little better – that could be enough.

Cullen got out of the tub shortly after Dorian had rinsed the last of the suds out of his hair; doing his best not to jump his Mellitus, the mage engulfed him in a large towel, then left him to dry himself off. Grabbing that silly book again, he took his seat at the table, popping a few grapes into his mouth as he waited. As if to torment him, the blond decided he didn’t need his shirt to eat dinner. No, all he wore was his trousers, his pale skin flushed from the heat of the water and his damp hair quickly curling as it dried. He didn’t sit in his chair – he lounged as if he owned the space, at ease and completely relaxed. The tension that seemed to perpetually haunt his frame was gone, just like the furrow that usually marred his brow. His eyes were almost glowing with warmth, and he seemed… happy; it lit a corresponding warmth in the vicinity of Dorian’s heart.

Again they spent their meal talking, though this time the conversation was decidedly more playful. Dorian had accepted that the teasing banter was one form of foreplay for them; halfway through the meal, their legs were entangled and they were both leaning over the table so they could talk closely and deliver discreet, teasing touches. There was, of course, a plate of fruit – no melon or oranges this time, but there was an exotic fruit he’d never seen before instead, likely something from the desert. Lady Montilyet wasn’t afraid to trade for new things when their regular supplies were low, and so one got rather used to odd foodstuffs appearing as if by magic on their plates. Still, it could sometimes be disconcerting.

“Try it, Mellitus. I know how you feel about fruit.”

“I… don’t know. It hardly looks like fruit at all. I may leave it all for your enjoyment.”

“You just don’t want to be the first to eat it. Don’t pretend you’re abstaining for my sake.”

“I’m going to eat most of the apple slices though… you should get most of _something_.”

“I will happily take most of the grapes. Just try… whatever it is.”

“I don’t wish to.”

“Mellitus…”

“Dorian…” the blond whined, imitating Dorian’s voice with a grin. The mage scowled at him, then left his seat and crossed to his Commander. Without missing a beat, he straddled the man’s lap, settling his rear directly over Cullen’s groin. He wrapped one arm around the other man’s neck while he half-turned, his free hand wrangling a piece of that strange fruit. Once he had it in his fingers, he faced Cullen once more, holding up the offering between them. His Mellitus had reflexively taken hold of his hips, and his entire attention was now on Dorian, lips parted just a little and his eyes beginning to smolder.

“You won’t try it for me?” He watched as Cullen wavered, torn between wanting to please him and protecting his own taste buds. It took far too long to make a decision; Dorian was just starting to pout when the other man let out a huff of irritation and opened his mouth fully. Wearing a triumphant smirk, Dorian fed him the piece of fruit, watching his face closely for a reaction. From the look on his face, the fruit was tolerable… and a much more interesting reaction was happening beneath him. He shifted his weight experimentally, acting as if he just needed to get more comfortable, and Cullen let out a soft groan of pleasure. “How is it, Mellitus?” Dorian’s voice came out low and husky, and as he spoke he rocked his hips, drawing forth another moan.

“Getting better.” Cullen answered with a smile, his left hand curling around to take hold of Dorian’s ass. Then he leaned forward, bringing them chest to chest; while he reached for a piece of fruit, his lips captured Dorian’s. The kiss started out slow and sweet, but very quickly heated up, the mage squirming in the blonde’s lap and parting his lips in a silent plea for his Commander to invade his mouth. The other man refused, separating them as he leaned back in his chair, and Dorian found a piece of that strange fruit held in front of his face. “Try it.” The man urged, his voice taking on a darker note as well, though it wasn’t quite the rumbling purr the mage adored so much.

Though he was still skeptical, Dorian allowed his lips to part, and his Mellitus fed him that odd fruit. The first taste of it was tangy more than sweet – it was new and different, and he decide that he liked it. To keep Cullen from dropping his hand, he lifted one of his own to wrap his fingers around the man’s wrist, thumb sliding against his palm in a soft caress. Their gazes held as he finished chewing and swallowed… and then Dorian took Cullen’s fingers into his mouth, sucking the juices from his flesh. He felt the man’s cock jump beneath him, and he began to harden in response; there was nothing quite like feeling his Mellitus come to life. Tongue swirling around each finger in turn, Dorian took his time, sucking happily, eagerly on the digits. He watched the blonde’s pupils dilate, knew the man was thinking of the blowjob he’d received the night before. Taking advantage of Cullen’s state of undress, his free hand wandered over muscled flesh, stroking and caressing, learning the other man. When he brushed his thumb over one nipple, the blonde’s pec jumped, making him give a soft chuckle. Finally, he pulled off Cullen’s fingers with a ‘pop’, curling his lips into a seductive smile.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture, I must admit I’m not very interested in the fruit right now.”

“Oh?” Cullen’s voice was strained, with just a hint of that purr. Shivering, Dorian pressed closer, allowing his half-hard cock to press against the man’s stomach.

“Mmmm. We can eat fruit any day – Josephine would never allow the Inquisition to run out.”

“That is true.”

“Indeed. So I believe it would be in our best interest, just this once, to ignore it in favor of other things.”

“What other things did you have in mind?” Before he was done speaking, he had his mouth against Dorian’s jaw. Cullen’s lips were always slightly chapped – curtesy of the cold weather – which made for an interesting sensation as they trailed down the curve of his jaw and then down the column of his neck. Head tipped back, the mage took hold of the blonde’s shoulders, biting his lower lip against a moan until he could find his voice.

“My clothes are much simpler today.”

“I noticed that.” Parting his lips, Cullen gave one lazy flick of his tongue against Dorian’s flesh, then began to suck it languidly, hips pushing up so he could grind into the mage’s bottom.

“I… ah. Good. You’re a… you’re a discerning man, Mellitussssss.” The last word ended on a hiss as Cullen bit down, once again leaving his mark. Dorian’s hips bucked up as his hands clamped down, leaving half-moon marks on Cullen’s skin; not quite a fair trade, but at least Dorian’s bite mark from the night before was still faintly visible on the other man’s chest. “Maker’s blood… take me to bed, you ridiculous man, before we both go off here.”

“Chair’s fine.” Cullen rumbled against his neck – Dorian could _feel_ his smirk. “Haven’t you ever made love in one before?”

“I’ve fucked in one, yes.” Not quite the same thing, and the ‘hum’ of displeasure the blond made meant that he knew it too. They didn’t address it, however. No, Cullen simply grabbed hold of Dorian’s ass with both hands, kneading his flesh as he stood in one smooth motion. Marveling at the man’s elegant strength, Dorian wrapped his legs around the other man, holding on tightly, Cullen still mouthing his neck as he strode across the floor to Dorian’s bed.

Dorian had been in many different beds and had gotten into them many different ways: he’d crawled, jumped and bounced under his own power or been tossed, thrown and dumped onto them by others. His Commander was different, laying the mage on the bed with the utmost care as if he were… precious. Like he was someone to be cherished, someone who mattered. It was such a novel experience that it had Dorian dragging the blond down with him to press feverish kisses against those chapped lips, arms winding tightly around the other man. Air didn’t matter anymore – breathing was overrated and unnecessary, because he could live on what Cullen provided him.

He didn’t fully realize that his clothes were being stripped away until the blond pulled away, both of them gasping for breath as he ripped Dorian’s shirt off his body. There was even a soft, brief tearing sound, but the mage didn’t even think to mourn whatever hole his Mellitus had created. What mattered was the way the blond fell on his body, mouth and hands worshipping every inch of his flesh. Those beautifully calloused hands weren’t practiced, didn’t know exactly how to touch him… and it was perfect. The way he explored and teased, lingering whenever Dorian reacted favorably, was so different than what he’d experienced of late. 

As he’d promised days ago, Cullen was kissing and licking every inch of his skin, slowly moving down until he’d reached the waistband of Dorian’s trousers. There he paused, looking up to meet Dorian’s eyes, a wicked smile on his lips. Maintaining that eye contact, he put his mouth to the mage’s contained cock, nuzzling the leather of his trousers. Dorian watched and suffered in exquisite torment as the blond licked and sucked at his cock through the material, able to feel the pressure and heat without any true contact. Mewling and groaning, he arched up off the bed, wordlessly encouraging Cullen to free him, to taste him… but the blond didn’t answer his plea right away. His fingers did indeed go to the laces of his trousers, but he undid them so slowly Dorian wanted to scream; resisting the urge, he speared his hands into Cullen’s hair, tugging desperately at the coarse, curly locks as he writhed on the bed.

Finally - _finally_ \- the laces were undone, and Cullen peeled his trousers off, tossing them to the floor to join his shirt and gloves. The blonde’s mouth went to the inside of Dorian’s left knee and began to move up his leg, fingers stroking his skin even as his lips moved higher and higher and higher, toward his throbbing shaft… then skipped over it entirely. His Commander moved all the way up his body, draping himself over Dorian like a heavy, warm blanket. All that was between them was the fabric of Cullen’s trousers; he could feel the man’s arousal, heavy and thick, pressing against his own. Mindlessly, he thrust upward, and the delicious friction of it made them both give hoarse cries of pleasure. Cullen dipped his head and caught Dorian’s mouth in a hungry kiss, tongue thrusting past the mage’s lips to plunder the depths of his mouth; Dorian’s own moved against it in a heady dance, tasting the fruit and wine they’d indulged in along with the singular taste of his Commander.

When they separated, panting and gasping for breath, Cullen pressed his forehead to Dorian’s, and the mage tipped his head to brush their noses together. “Dorian…” The blonde’s usual voice had completely disappeared into that rumbling, raspy purr, need throbbing in his voice. “I know you said you wanted… but I was hoping… I don’t want this to be uneven, but…”

“Do you need me to fuck you, Mellitus?” 

Yes.” There was something so intense, so incredibly satisfying, about having Cullen ask him for such a thing. To have his lover admitted that he wanted and needed him was a potent elixir that went straight to his head and his cock – it made him feel powerful and protective and like he could do anything that his Commander asked of him. Yes, he wanted to feel Cullen thrust inside of him, wanted his Mellitus to take him… but not as much as he wanted to give the blond everything; he wanted to deserve that beautiful smile his Mellitus occasionally gifted him with. He wanted to deserve Cullen.

“On the shelf above my wardrobe I have oils.” Dorian told him, leaning up to put his mouth to the other man’s ear. “Any of them will do. Pick one and take off your trousers.” Closing his lips around Cullen’s earlobe, sucking for several moments before speaking again. “When you come back to me, I’ll do more than fuck you, Mellitus. Come back to me and I’ll make love to you.” Cullen was out of the bed so fast that Dorian couldn’t do anything but laugh, rolling on his side to watch the man move. Even when hurrying, he was a sleek predator, muscles bunching and flexing under pale skin. The man was beauty in motion, and Dorian was sure that he could watch him for the rest of his life.

A frightening thought only because of its sincerity, one that he was trying very, very hard not to take seriously.

Words weren’t necessary when Cullen returned, handing over the bottle he’d grabbed at random before shedding his trousers. He was climbing back on the bed even as Dorian sat and unstopped the bottle, a musky, woody scent filling the air. Without waiting for any direction from the mage, Cullen grabbed one of the many, many pillows that Dorian kept on his bed and brought it under his hips. Smiling fondly, he watched the blond for several moments, simply taking in the sight of him there in _his_ bed, spread out on the fancy Orlesian silk he preferred to sleep on. He’d meant to use the oil straightaway, eager to be sheathed inside his lover… but Cullen was just so heart-wrenchingly beautiful that he forced himself to slow down and take his time.

After setting the bottle of oil aside, Dorian turned his full attention to the other man; much like his Commander had, he started with the blonde’s neck. Though his exploration was less frenzied than Cullen’s, it was just as thorough – he followed every line of muscle, traced every contour with first the delicate pads of his fingers and then with his tongue. He learned that the scar that curved over his Commander’s abdomen was still sensitive, and touching it made him gasp and jump, though it didn’t seem to be pain he was feeling. Dorian again was treated to the blonde’s colorful language when he avoided the man’s cock – though he did let out a puff of air over the sensitive skin, making it buck as the man swore – and made his way down his right leg.

He went all the way down until he reached Cullen’s ugly foot, caressing and massaging the appendage tenderly. After kissing the sole of his foot, he put his lips to the man’s big toe and briefly took it into his mouth, more for the pleasure of making his Commander moan longingly than anything else. Dorian repeated the motion on the blonde’s other foot, then made his way back up until he was settled between the man’s legs again, hovering over him with his hands planted on either side of his head. “Maker, Mellitus. You’re so fucking perfect it hurts.” He told the man, voice hoarse with longing and need. To his delight, Cullen blushed and looked away, mumbling something indistinct, shifting in embarrassment beneath him. Giving a quiet chuckle, Dorian reached again for the bottle of oil, cock aching to be buried in that tight, sexy body.

This time, Dorian didn’t feel quite so timid about preparing his Commander, not now that he knew the man had more experience than he would have suspected. Instead of focusing all his attention on watching the other man open to him, he looked only to guide his fingers in; the rest of his focus was spent whispering into Cullen’s ear. Dorian heaped praise on the other man, telling him how beautiful he was, how good he felt around his finger. He praised him for his responsiveness, for that wonderfully sexy growl that escaped when he briefly pulled both fingers he was using to loosen him out. Several times he slipped into more colorful Tevene phrases, spouting poetry at the man as he whimpered and panted beneath him. Cullen seemed lost in his words and the feelings Dorian was giving him; his cock was laying on his stomach, flushed an angry red with need, weeping precum onto his skin. Dorian was just as hard and needy, and was fighting the urge to simply slam home – not quite yet. He wasn’t ready quite yet.

With three fingers sheathed in the blonde’s body, he found the man’s sweet spot and began to rub in tender circles. Cullen let out a passionate cry, arching up off the bed as he clung tightly to Dorian’s arms – when the mage had worked in a second finger, he forgot whatever it was that held him back, letting go of the sheets to clutch at Dorian instead. It wasn’t until his Commander was almost mindless with need, begging him incoherently to take him, that the mage acted on the plea. He took just enough time to anoint his shaft with oil, and then he covered the warrior’s body entirely with his own. “Hold on to me, Amatus.” He whispered, not realizing he’d used the word until it was too late to call it back; thankfully, Cullen didn’t seem to recognize the new word, eyes glazed with lust as he gripped Dorian’s shoulders.

Dorian took his time sliding into his sweet Commander’s body, keeping his gaze locked on Cullen’s. He watched the play of emotions on the man’s face, reveled in every shift, every bite of the blonde’s lower lip, every soft sound of pleasure that escaped. When he finally bottomed out, Dorian held himself there on arms that shook with the effort, bending his head to feather kisses all over Cullen’s face. At last he found the man’s lips and delivered a series of soft, clinging kisses, his Commander returning them with equal passion. When he finally began to move, it was with slow, easy strokes – he wanted this to last as long as it could. Praise began to drip from his lips again, encouraging Cullen to let lose in his pleasure, to lose himself in it.

There was no way to know how long they both lingered there in that perfect, crystallized moment, souls joining along with their bodies. It was long enough that their skin was slick with sweat and their breath was coming in short, almost pained gasps. “Dorian… please… I can’t…”

“Easy, Amatus.” He could say that here, lost in the throes of passion surely – it was what he felt. His Tevinter sensibilities demanded he admit that truth if only here, in bed. “I know. I have you.” Reaching between them, he found Cullen’s shaft and began to stroke it in time with his own thrusts – it wouldn’t take long for the blond to find completion, he was sure. And, of course, he was right. After only a few strokes in, the man cried out his name in pleasure, going taut beneath him, nails scraping a path over his back. Dorian felt tremors wrack the man, his body going tight around Dorian’s cock; though part of him wanted to fight it, he allowed the feeling to carry him closer to his own orgasm. He did his best to keep that same easy, deep rhythm… but it was hard, especially as he felt the warm, sticky evidence of his Commander’s pleasure dripping down his skin.

Soon after that, he lost most of his control, and his thrusts came harder and faster, motions jerky and stilted. “Cullen… Mellitus… Amatus…” he panted, both hands again planted on the bed as he chased his own bliss. When it came, he gave a bellow of triumph, slamming hard into the other man and holding; his cock swelled and then exploded, Dorian’s toes curling and every muscle in his body going rigid as he expelled himself in his lover’s body.

After, he collapsed, heart pounding and his breathing elevated. Cullen, who’d had a bit of time to recover, rolled them over – first onto their sides, where he gently pulled off the other man, and then again so Dorian was on his back. His Commander was briefly a heavy weight on top of him, until he shifted to curl up at the mage’s side. This time, it was the blond who rested his head over the darker man’s heart. The room was quiet but for the sound of their breathing, and Dorian could feel Cullen tracing random patterns over his chest with one hand.

Part of him knew they should clean up at least a little, and he had one last surprise for his Mellitus, but fuck if he could move. Cullen seemed in the same state, silence between them as they settled; Dorian thought he might have dozed, because he closed his eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, the blond was walking to the tub.

“How do you recover so fast?” the mage complained, a smile tugging at his lips. “It would be nice if I could be the considerate one for a change.”

“You’re always considerate, sweetheart.” Cullen answered, looking over his shoulder and giving a wink. “I am a warrior, however – my stamina is vastly superior to yours. You should come spar with Cassandra and I in the morning. You’ll have more energy.”

“Tomorrow we duel. Bring your weapon of choice and say your prayers to the Maker beforehand. I will have you know I am in perfect, pristine condition; I am the result of generations of selective breeding, and my physique is reflective of that process. I’m in bloody good shape, and I demand you recant your statement.” As he spoke, Cullen was cleaning himself up; though he wanted to help, Dorian just couldn’t make himself move yet. Thankfully, the blond wasn’t as selfish as he, and came over to him with a damp cloth. Carefully, tenderly, his Commander washed his stomach, removing the last traces of their lovemaking before tossing the cloth to the floor. 

Dorian mumbled a protest when Cullen coaxed him into sliding under the covers but did it anyway; the two men curled into each other like cats, wrapping their arms around each other, Cullen’s head tucked under Dorian’s chin. Hands wandered in soothing movements, stroking and caressing sweat-dampened skin as they both slipped toward slumber. Memory returned to the mage, and he gave a soft sigh.

“I almost forgot. I made you a few things today, Mellitus. Dagna helped a little, but I assure you that the bulk of the work and genius was mine.”

“I’m sure it was, Dorian.” Sleepy and indulgent, his Commander’s voice drew him closer to the sleep he was fighting.

“It was. Hold a moment.” It took all his willpower to pull away from Cullen, but he managed, rolling over toward his nightstand. After a few half-hearted tries, he hooked one finger in the chain he’d attached to the only surviving small glass orb, pulling it into bed with him. Rolling back into his Commander, he tugged the chain over his head, forcing him to wear the thing. “Tougher than it looks.” He assured the blond when he gave a wary look to the delicate-seeming pendant. “And watch.” As soon as he brushed a finger over the orb, it lit up, shining brightly and steadily. “In case you don’t have any candles handy. I can attune it to you in the morning… it will only shine for you.”

“Dorian, I…” Cullen was blushing softly, staring down at the orb with something like awe. “You didn’t have to… I mean it…” Abandoning words, the man leaned up and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss. “Thank you.” He whispered as he pulled back, smiling. “I appreciate it.”

“Not done yet. Watch.” Dorian waved a hand in a move that was entirely theater, no real need driving the gesture. Every candle in the room went out, and in their place came the same bright glow that was emanating from his Commander’s new trinket. The glass orbs had been almost invisible in the light of the candles, but now they burned merrily, illuminating the room in its entirety. “I have some for your tower.” Dorian told him sleepily, nuzzling his face into Cullen’s neck. “If you let me put them up, I can make it so they turn dark while you’re asleep and light again if you wake.”

“I… Dorian… _thank you_.” There was so much feeling in the words that Dorian pulled back and tugged Cullen to him instead, letting the blond hide from the rest of the world in his arms. He could feel the man trembling slightly, and the mage rubbed his back soothingly, attempting to calm him down. It had been worth it, the few hours spent with Dagna spelling orbs and fine-tuning the spell. It had been worth all glass shards pelting a barrier, worth every squeal from the dwarf and every cuss word from Harritt when he returned to find glass littering the floor of the Undercroft. It had all been worth it, because he’d given his Mellitus something that he appreciated and could use.

And if he felt a few hot, wet drops hit his neck before he dimmed Cullen’s necklace and they both drifted off to sleep… well. He ignored them, letting his Commander have privacy in that moment. For the first time in a long time, his heart was light and he knew for certain that everything was going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are not going to be alright. ;.;
> 
> Getting closer to finishing up, though I don't know if everything will be wrapped up in this story, or if there will be a sequel. Kind of wavering. Dunno. XD
> 
> I do promise a happy ending!!


	16. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's nightmares intrude on his peaceful time with Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the chapter where the Inquisitor returned, but... I realized that I had yet to address Cullen's nightmares, fears and quite-probable PTSD in any real or meaningful way. As that would negatively impact the rest of the story, I thought I should maybe, you know... fix that.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading! <3 I love all the comments as well - they keep me going when I start to impose writer's block upon myself. 
> 
> I have a tumblr now, which confuses the hell out of me, but it's there. My name there is Tahlreth, because I totally started a 'Tahlruil' one like, a couple years ago and have no idea what the password was and no way to access the email account I used to sign up. So yeah. You can contact me there, I think? Anyone who can explain how in the actual fuck it works to me will get virtual cookies till the end of days and maybe an answer to a prompt of their choosing if they wish or something... 'cause seriously, I'm lost. XD I have noooo idea what to actually, you know, DO with it. Help me. XD

_Though Dorian knew he was dreaming, he didn’t care – not when it was such a wonderful one. Later, when he remembered, he knew it would hurt. He would miss the open, breezy mansion that allowed warm air to flow through it, heat curling affectionately around the occupants. He would miss the two Mabari hounds on their heels; in his dream, both were impeccably behaved and unfailingly loyal. He would miss the little girl clutching his hand, the one with Cullen’s eyes and curly dark blond hair. He would miss having his Amatus walking on his other side, arms full of the toddler who had imperiously declared a few feet ago that walking was beneath him – he possessed both Dorian’s eyes and aristocratic haughtiness. He was going to miss it all fiercely, with an ach he was sure would never really fade._

_“How goes your latest push for reform?”_

_“It wasn’t killed immediately, so there is a chance. If all goes well, you’ll finally be able to make an honest man of me in the spring.”_

_“Nothing would make me happier, you know.”_

_“I do know.” They slowed to a stop, and the little girl immediately wrapped her arms around Dorian’s legs, giggling as both Mabari flopped onto their backs, one at Dorian’s feet and the other at Cullen’s. The blond man carefully maneuvered around his hound to face him, making the dog snort unhappily. He reached up and cupped Dorian’s cheek, calloused palm and fingers gentle against his skin, and their son echoed the gesture on the other side of his face. Now that they were close enough together, their daughter wrapped an arm around each of them, burying her face in Cullen’s trousers, still giggling._

_It was love and family and comfort, everything Dorian had been afraid to admit he wanted. With Cullen, their children and these dreadful Mabari, he was_ home.

_Cullen was smiling at him sweetly, his eyes warm and expression full of tenderness. “I love you.” He murmured, hand sliding down to curl around the back of his neck._

_“I love you too, Amatus.” Cullen leaned in to give him a kiss, and as he did, his hand shifted… and so did the tone of his dream. Suddenly the children and Mabari were gone, as was their mansion; now they were standing in a dark room with only a single flickering light. Cullen stood before him in Templar armor, the haggard look of a man taking far too much lyrium on his face. The hand on his neck was no longer comforting and tender… now his Amatus was strangling him. There was no life in his eyes as he choked the life out of Dorian, and prowling in the shadows around them was Sylaera Lavellan._

_He needed to_ wake up.

When he did, Sylaera was gone and so was the Templar armor… but Cullen still had his fingers wrapped around his throat. He’d forgotten to ensure the orbs of light stayed on all night, he realized as his own hands wrapped around Cullen’s wrist, trying desperately to pull him away. As he fought for air, he also struggled against the panic rising inside of him, but both were losing battles. He could hear himself gasping and choking, trying to call the blonde’s name and get him to _stop_ ; his Commander still seemed half asleep, fingers clutching convulsively, half-heard mutters against mages and demons and blood magic falling from his lips.

If he used a spell, he could get the other man off him… but something in Dorian rebelled at the notion. He didn’t want to hurt his Amatus, didn’t want the other man to hate or fear his magic any more than he already did. Attacking would be a last resort, which was, unfortunately, drawing nearer. He never could beat Cullen in a match of pure strength, and he could barely breathe, let alone talk the blond through whatever vision from the fade still gripped him. As his vision narrowed in and began to go dark around the edges, prompting him to frantically reach for his magic, a memory sparked to life in his mind.

_“Sometimes there are nightmares… it’s easier when there’s light if I wake from one.”_

Without a moment’s hesitation, Dorian threw his magic into those orbs, lighting the room as brightly as if it were day. The sudden change was enough to startle his Commander, and the tight grip he’d had on Dorian’s throat grew looser, and the mage could breathe again. Cullen was clearly disoriented, shaking his head like a man coming up for air after a long dive in the sea. The muttering had stopped and he looked awake, which removed any lingering fear Dorian had for his delicate and now very bruised neck. He saw the moment the blond returned fully to the waking world, his honey brown eyes going huge in his suddenly bone-white face. The man snatched his hand back like Dorian was a hot pan, then recoiled even further, moving to the edge of the bed.

“Dorian, I… I’m so sorry. Forgive me, I didn’t mean… I didn’t know…I… forgive me…” Cullen could be shy, but he always kept a level of composure that Dorian would freely admit to being envious of; that was gone, ripped away by his dreams and the moment. His Amatus was falling apart, rocking slightly with his head cradled in his hands, whispering ‘forgive me’ over and over. For a moment, Dorian didn’t know how to react. After he pushed himself up into a sitting position, he could only stare at the broken man in his bed, throat aching and heart pounding with leftover adrenaline. It was when Cullen gave a soft keening sound and made to stand that the mage finally snapped out of his inaction.

Lunging forward, he caught hold of Cullen’s waist – it was a testament to how shaken the man was that he didn’t really fight the hold. Perhaps afraid he would hurt Dorian further, he gave a half-hearted shove to the mage’s shoulder, then allowed the man to drag him back to the bed and against his body. “Dorian, let me… I can’t be here. I hurt you… I _hurt_ you. Please just let me go.”

“Shhh, Amatus.” Dorian murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around the man, tucking his head under his chin. That was a mistake: it gave Cullen a close-up view of the blooming bruises on Dorian’s neck. He made another sound of distress, trying again to leave the mage’s arms. Dorian just held on tighter. “I’m alright, Cullen. I’m alright.” Feeling the blond shake his head in denial, he grabbed hold of his Commander’s chin, tipping his head back to capture his trembling mouth in a soothing, reassuring kiss. With his other hand, the mage grabbed one of Cullen’s hands and brought it to his chest, letting the man feel his heartbeat. Once the kiss was over, Dorian brought their foreheads together, feeling their breath mingle as he sought to calm the other man. “I’m here and I’m alright. We’re fine, Amatus. I’m sorry the lights went out – that was my fault.” The blond shook his head, so Dorian gave him another kiss, and then another, until Cullen was clinging to him instead of trying to pull away.

Sensing his Commander had calmed, Dorian broke their latest kiss, settling into just holding the other man. Together, they used the quiet to calm and then come to terms with what had happened. “Dorian, I… I beg your forgiveness. In a new place, in the dark… I couldn’t… I didn’t know it was _real_. I thought a demon was wearing your face, and I… I am so sorry Dorian.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Dorian answered soothingly, rubbing one hand up and down Cullen’s arm, rocking back and forth slightly. “I shouldn’t have been so eager to show off my fancy orbs when I was on the edge of falling asleep. I obviously didn’t use them properly – they should have burned all night.” Reminded of his new trinket, Cullen grabbed for the orb around his neck and held it up to Dorian, a pleading look in his eyes. It was so heartrendingly different than his usual avoidance of magic that the mage didn’t even think to tell the blond he didn’t need the light, not with how bright the room was. No, he just reached out and woke the spell inside, giving the man his own source of light to cling to.

For a long time, they sat there in silence, offering and receiving comfort from each other. When most of the tension had drained from the blond, Dorian pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “I’m sorry, Mellitus.” He murmured, slipping back into the less dangerous endearment now that the moment of crisis was over. “It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll fix it before tomorrow night.”

“It’s not your fault.” Cullen murmured, leaning heavily against him. “It’s me. I’m broken, Dorian. I am simply glad that you’re alright. I could have-” Cutting himself off, Cullen made another soft sound of distress, hiding his face in Dorian’s neck.

“You have such a low opinion of me and my defensive skills. I could have gotten you off of me, you ridiculous man. I am a mage of no small talent, after all.” He paused a moment, stroking Cullen’s skin, then asked a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “Has this ever happened with…?”

“I… yes. She…” Pausing, the blond gave a shuddering sigh, holding onto Dorian with one hand while the other gripped that orb of light. “She… enjoys it. She puts out the candles before we sleep. When she wakes up with me trying to… she fights back and then…”

“I see.” Dorian interrupted smoothly, soothingly, not wanting to put Cullen through anymore awkward attempts at explaining when he already understood enough. Righteous anger had again blazed to life inside of him, burning hotter than anything he’d ever felt before. Before that moment, he’d thought he would never be more furious at anyone than he was with his father. Now, however, Sylaera Lavellan had moved to the top of the list. What she was doing to the man in his arms, his bed, his heart… he could kill her with a smile on his lips and a song in his heart if she wasn’t the world’s only hope.

Truthfully, he was very nearly ready to say ‘fuck the world’ and kill her anyway.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmares, Mellitus?”

“No.” The answer was swift and full of fear, so Dorian left it alone – Cullen didn’t need any more pushing and prodding just then. Silence fell once more, and then the blond shook his head and pulled away; this time, the mage let him go. “I need air. I can’t… without the hole, I… I have to go outside.” He was muttering half to Dorian and half to himself as he stood and pulled his trousers on with jerky motions, followed quickly by his socks and shoes. “Forgive me. I can come back…” he trailed off when he turned to see Dorian already out of bed and pulling his trousers on as well. “Dorian, you don’t have to come with me. You shouldn’t have to leave your warm bed just to tend to me.”

“I’m aware, Mellitus. What you’re not taking into account is that I _want_ to come with you.” He could tell Cullen wanted to argue, but the blond only shook his head, both of them silent as they dressed. Before they left Dorian’s room, the mage grabbed one of his extra blankets – he had a feeling they were going to that tower with a glorious view and three separate ladders they would need to climb; it would be cold. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Cullen took hold of his hand in a grip that was a little too tight… but Dorian didn’t really mind. He would give his Amatus anything he needed.

Their silence continued as they headed to the tower, Cullen nodding impassively to the patrolling recruits they passed. He managed to keep his face bland and answer any queries with an even voice, but Dorian could tell that it cost him; by the time they were at the bottom of the tower, his fingers had gone numb from Cullen’s grip and the blonde’s lips were pressed together in a thin line that trembled. Up and up and up they went, until they had arrived at Cullen’s safe place. Some of the remaining tension left the man’s shoulders, and he looked up into the starry night sky, a look of relief on his face. Satisfied that this little trip would help his Commander, Dorian wrapped the blanket around himself, trying valiantly not to let his teeth clack together as he shivered.

To his credit, Cullen didn’t tell him that he could go back inside or tell Dorian that he should have dressed warmer if he wanted to stay outside with him. Once he’d gotten enough air that he felt steady again, he crossed to the mage and leaned in, giving him the softest, most tender kiss Dorian had ever had. Wordlessly, he then moved to Dorian’s back and wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging him close as they watched the horizon and the sky.

When the sun rose some hours later, it found them both still standing there, Cullen now wrapped in the blanket as well. Though they were both a bit numb from the cold, they wore matching smiles, leaning into each other for warmth and support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a little note, I'm diverging a bit from canon here; I don't think Sylaera actually has any idea what Cullen's nightmares are actually about. They're physically intimate, not emotionally close. So she's not like, intentionally being terrible with the slight kink mentioned in the fic - she just hasn't really cared enough to figure out Cullen's hangups.
> 
> I'm doing my absolute best to handle broken-Cullen with sensitivity and care, 'cause he very clearly has some mental and emotional trauma that he has not yet been able to work through. My dad was much the same - this scene is actually based loosely on a few incidents that happened when we traveled as a family when I was younger, though they weren't nearly as severe. Having mental health issues myself and as someone going into the Human Services field, I want to handle it all with care and compassion, but if something rubs you the wrong way, let me know! I like to learn about how other people experience or see these issues.
> 
> In addition, I don't always know what to do with tags. I don't really get them. If there's any that I should be using that I'm not, or if something is triggering and could use a tag as a warning, again let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> Anything you don't want to discuss publicly in comments can, of course, be directed to that tumblr thing I mentioned. <3
> 
> You're all fabulous, and thanks for reading!


	17. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylaera returns with Bull, forcing Dorian and Cullen to make some decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're baaaaack. ;_:
> 
> I continue to be very grateful to you all for reading and commenting - thank you so much! <3

Their days took on a routine, one that Dorian reveled in despite all its mundane repetitions. In the early morning, if both woke early enough and Cullen wasn’t in too much pain, they had lazy, relaxed tumbled in the sheets. Once the bell and bugle called the more industrious members of the Inquisition from their beds, Cullen left him alone to play with the Seeker while Dorian slept in a little longer.

The mage and warrior always spent their mornings separately, without contacting each other. His Amatus had important Commander-ing to do, after all, and Dorian had projects of his own. He worked on his arcane library, getting it ready for the imminent arrival of his book collection from Tevinter – his mother had received his plea and decided to send them. Even if it was only to spite his father who had refused unequivocally, Dorian was grateful. He did what research on lyrium he could, allowed Lysette to Smite him during their weekly practice, and spent time with Fiona devising a training regime for the more hopeless mages who still wanted to join the battle despite it.

Most of the time, they spent their afternoons apart as well. Dorian always made sure that someone delivered lunch to his Commander, and Cullen would thank him through letters delivered by Kattrin. This often led to longer, flirtier exchanges that left the woman giggling and both men eager to come together again. Not for sex, necessarily, but just for the joy of being able to see and touch each other as they spoke. More and more, Kattrin would find Dorian in the Undercroft during the afternoons, talking circles of theory with Dagna and running the occasional small experiment as the two worked to find a beginning point for their study. Once, Cullen surprised him by bringing lunch to his library, taking a whole hour of his attention away from the Inquisition so they could eat together.

They almost always spent their evenings in each other’s company, though Sera once dragged Dorian away to play and Cullen was once pulled into spending time with a visiting dignitary who had a keen interest in the military. Both escapades were surprisingly enjoyable, and Dorian laughed as he described the pranks Sera had planned while Cullen’s eyes were bright and eager when he described the new strategy he and the dignitary had thought up together. They played chess, sat quietly and read, walked the ramparts hand in hand… one night they even made a brief appearance at the tavern, though they were careful not to be demonstrative while there. Cassandra came to eat dinner with them three times, watching them with dreamy eyes and voicing longing sighs between conversation topics.

Sometimes they made love before they went to bed, and sometimes they didn’t; sometimes they slept in Dorian’s room, and sometimes they slept in Cullen’s. A few of Dorian’s belongings made their way to Cullen’s tower while a similar migration meant that several of his Amatus’ more ugly possessions had to be integrated into his otherwise flawless room. They talked about themselves and their lives, though Dorian still hadn’t told the entire truth about his father and Cullen point-blank refused to discuss his nightmares or their source.

Not talking about them didn’t keep them away, and they continued to come even though Dorian had perfected the glowing orbs, keying them to Cullen. Though he didn’t wake again to find himself being strangled, sometimes his Commander would grab him hard enough to leave bruises before he came back to himself; sometimes he would shout and rage in his sleep, waking and quieting only when Dorian used his magic to make the room bright as day. On those nights, without comment or question, the mage would dress along with his Amatus and they would go to that taller tower, watching the stars until the sun climbed back over the horizon. 

Sometimes Cullen was in so much pain during the day that he snarled and snapped at Dorian or refused to return his letters. Once he wouldn’t eat the lunch that the mage had sent to him, and once he left his tower to avoid Dorian’s arrival; the darker man waited several hours, alone, then went back to his room. His Commander didn’t come to find him until several hours after that, entering Dorian’s room quietly with his head hung and tension written in his body. Only just managing to refrain from commenting, Dorian opened the covers in invitation, letting Cullen know he was still welcome in the mage’s bed. He’d climbed in and curled up to Dorian, holding him too tightly as he sometimes did – Dorian didn’t really mind.

Their rapidly growing closeness sometimes terrified Dorian. He still refused to call Cullen ‘Amatus’ aloud, except in the throes of their passion or the dangerous hours of the night when Cullen needed to be calmed. On occasion he got too snide and bitter, chasing his Commander away and forcing the mage to humble himself with an apology. Sometimes he found himself pushing the blond away without meaning to, and sometimes he had the maddest urge to end the whole thing before Cullen could, hoping to spare just a few pieces of his heart. He never did, however, and Cullen always accepted his apologies with a warm smile and open arms.

In short, they were good for each other.

Dorian wished it could last forever.

~.~.~

The change came almost two weeks after that first, desperate kiss that had been spurred by drunken loneliness.

He and Dagna had spent the afternoon making plans for the first big experiment they wanted to conduct; the hardest part had been (and would continue to be, he suspected) pulling the dwarf back from the brink of insanity. She just hated to think small and do things the way they’d always been done, and it was an awful lot of work to convince her they needed to start there. Eventually they’d compromised, and Dorian had watched in relief as she regretfully crumpled the letter she’d wanted to send asking her contacts in Orzammar to send three wagon loads of raw lyrium to Skyhold.

Maker he adored the mad little woman.

As he headed out of the wonderful and very cold crafting area, shuffling through his notes as he went, Dorian almost ran into Harritt. No longer actively hostile to each other – far too much work now that they were forced to be in each other’s presence so often – they were still far from friends. The mage expected a fiery explosion of anger and maybe even a fist to the face. Instead, the surly smith reached out and steadied him, looking like he was sucking on a lemon but still trying to smile. “Mage.”

“Smith.”

“Look. I don’t like you much-”

“Really? I would never have guessed. I do believe I might be hurt.”

“Shut yer yap, mage. Trying to tell you something, aren’t I?” Dorian rolled his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh, settling in to listen to whatever nonsense was about to fall from the man’s sneering lips. “I heard you and the dwarf talking about Mabari the other day. Got a friend who just came to Skyhold recently – she raises the noble beasts. Good at what she does. One of hers had a litter a while back.”

And there Harritt stopped, as if he expected Dorian to understand what he was getting at… and maybe Dorian did, just a little. Maybe his heart picked up a little bit of speed as he imagined presenting Cullen with a small bundle of fur and drool. Maybe he was suddenly itching to grab hold of Harritt and shake the man until the location of his friend and the miracle puppies were revealed.

Instead, he arched a brow and waited.

Several silent moments later, Harritt gave a snort of disgust, shaking his head. “People say mages are clever, but I don’t know about that. Most of them puppies are spoke for – she’s good, like I said. Raises real fighters. Loyal too. Don’t know why a ‘Vint would want one, but I guess it takes all kinds. One of them is a bit of a runt. Nobody’s wanted him yet. Thought maybe you might be interested, since I don’t think you can handle a _real_ Mabari. If you want, I could have her bring him by so you can take a look.”

Dorian had the urge to brush him off, dismiss him, or accept the gesture grudgingly. Then, in his mind’s eye, he could see the way Cullen’s eyes would surely light up when he finally got a Mabari of his very own. It was a boy, but that wouldn’t matter much… and there would be no puppies, which wasn’t a bad thing at all. Harritt was making it possible, and so even though he hated the other man, he allowed himself to beam at the burly smith, and even let out a laugh.

“Haha! My good fellow, I would be exceptionally grateful if you would do just that! I’ve been curious about the beasts for some time now, and having my own… well. It would almost make me feel Ferelden. I have a thing or two I absolutely must take care of, but… do you suppose you might be able to have your friend swing by my quarters?” From what he understood, Mabari often imprinted on a single person – he would rather that be Cullen, so he didn’t have some mutt following him around constantly… but he _didn’t_ want Harritt to know the dog was for the Commander.

The both stroked their mustaches as they made arrangements, watching each other closely. Harritt begrudgingly agreed to deliver the message to his friend and Dorian promised to be there to see the puppy. When they finalized things and Harritt actually held out his hand for the mage to shake… well. Dorian almost felt he’d made another conquest; one more mind and heart of the Inquisition had decided he wasn’t an evil bastard. Then Harritt _called_ him an evil Tevinter bastard, and the moment was rather ruined.

His mood wasn’t, however. At least, not until he passed by a cluster of visiting dignitaries on his way to Cullen’s tower – that was when he learned the awful, horrible, tragic news.

The Inquisitor was returning.

She would be back before the day ended, if all the gossip he was hearing wasn’t completely wrong… and it never was. The clucking hens might get a detail here or there wrong, but there was always a core of truth to their words. Sylaera Lavellan was coming home, bringing Vivienne, Varric and – most importantly – Iron Bull with her. 

Their stolen moment was over.

All thoughts of Mabari fled his mind, and much of his strength left his body. Halfway between the rotunda and Cullen’s tower, he just… stopped. He couldn’t force himself to take another step, couldn’t make his brain form a coherent thought; everything that he was simply came to a complete halt. Time meant nothing when you were nothing, so he would never know just how long he’d stood there before he felt arms wrap around his waist and a soft body lean against his. He blinked and looked down, catching sight of frizzy brown hair that he associated with Kattrin when her hood was down. That was who was hugging him carefully, like he might break – it was Kattrin. He’d met her what felt like years ago, when things had been simple and he’d been happy. It was good to see her, wasn’t it? She was a friend, after all. Slowly, trying to remember how hugs worked, he wrapped his arms around her in return – when she looked up, there was a sort of sorrowful concern on her face, and he could see her lips moving. She was talking to him, and he tried his best to force himself to tune in to her words.

All he really understood was that Cullen was waiting in his tower and that she’d been sent to find Dorian. There was more, some babbling that he couldn’t really grasp, maybe an inquiry as to his well-being, but none of it really sank in. After a moment, he gave her a distracted smile and brushed a kiss over her forehead, then gently disengaged from the hug. Words didn’t want to form, so he just clapped a hand on her shoulder as he walked by, almost stumbling as he finished the walk to Cullen’s dismal little tower.

When he opened the door to enter, things were starting to come back into focus – the world was starting to feel real again. Cullen stood in front of his desk, back to Dorian as he hunched over the piece of furniture, hands planted on the surface. They were alone, and once the mage closed the door, the rest of Thedas might as well not have existed. It was just them in one of their safe spaces, and Dorian gave an exhale of relief, collapsing back against the sturdy piece of wood. It was going to be alright, now that he was here. He and his Amatus could discuss this, figure out how they wanted to address the approaching disaster. Bull he could handle; Bull would be easy. They wouldn’t need a complex plan to let the Qunari know that he and Cullen were together – Dorian would tell him, and he couldn’t imagine the great ox would put up much of a fuss. Sylaera was going to be the problem. Sylaera was the enemy.

Together, he and Cullen could formulate a strategy to defeat her.

It was going to be alright.

Pulling from the door, he strode towards Cullen… and only then realized that the blond hadn’t moved at all since he’d entered. Some of his confidence fled, and his stride stuttered to another stop about a foot from the other man. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, but the oppressive air in the room seemed to forbid words. Why wouldn’t his Commander look at him? Dorian swallowed hard, feeling his hands curl up to form tight fists – something felt wrong. It felt so terribly wrong, like his whole world was teetering on the edge of a cliff, and he had no say in whether or not it toppled over.

“Cullen?”

Maker, was that his voice? It sounded broken and had cracked halfway through the blonde’s name; he sounded _weak_. He sounded weak and needy, and why in the fuck had he made himself so vulnerable? It was the biggest mistake that could possibly be made, and yet he’d made it willingly and happily, offering his heart up on a silver fucking platter. At least the speaking of his name had caught his Commander’s attention – the blond jerked as if coming out of his own thoughts, then straightened slowly. When he turned to face Dorian, the mage bit back a cry of distress; he knew the look on Cullen’s face.

He knew that sad, wistful smile that curled the man’s chapped lips. He knew the gentle look of yearning in his eyes, trapped beneath a layer of icy regard. The true warmth and tenderness was gone, leaving Dorian feeling cold and shriveled inside. Cullen didn’t move toward him, and Dorian couldn’t bring himself to try and completely close the distance between them – he didn’t think he could bear it if the blond pushed him away.

“Dorian.” There was no uncertainty in Cullen’s voice, no weakness; he was decided and sure. His left hand was resting on the hilt of his blade and he was looking the mage straight in the face. The blond didn’t shift his weight or fuss with his hands or give any indication that he might be feeling even the slightest bit torn. Dorian wanted to deny it – how could the man be calm and composed and so fucking _detached_ after everything that had happened between them? How could his heart not be breaking when Dorian’s was slowly shattering, piece by piece, in his chest?

How could this be happening?

“These past few weeks have been…” The man stopped, then shrugged one shoulder before continuing. “Well. We’ve had fun, haven’t we?”

“Fun?” _Fun_? They’d had _fun_?

“Mm. I enjoyed our time together. You were there for me when I needed someone, and I thank you for that, my friend.”

_Friend_. He was a friend who’d just happened to be there, and Cullen had enjoyed it.

“However, with The Iron Bull and Sylaera returning, I think it is time that we face facts.” Cullen was looking at him expectantly, but for all the magic in all the world, Dorian couldn’t think what the blond possibly expected of him. When nothing was forthcoming, the Commander gave a disappointed sigh and shook his head. “What we had, what we were doing… it has to end, Dorian. I cannot be torn between two people and still maintain my focus on the Inquisition. I know you care for The Iron Bull, so I trust you understand what I mean.”

That trust was severely misplaced, because Dorian didn’t trust himself to even be able to speak just then, let alone _understand_ a single Blighted thing. He could feel his world wobble a little, and he scrambled to find some sense of solid ground, but before he could… his world went into freefall. Everything he’d come to believe in during the past two weeks was ripped away, leaving him with absolutely nothing to hold onto. There was a terrible ringing in his ears, but over that he could hear the harsh, rough sound of his breath and the frantic pounding of his heart. Everything in his vision was blurred except for the Commander, who stood out in sharp relief – Dorian could have counted every strand of fur in that terrible cloak of his if he wished. His heart was still in the process of shattering, and every shard dug in so sharply and cut so deeply it was a miracle he wasn’t bleeding out of the hole he was sure had opened in his chest.

How could this be happening?

“… surely you agree this is for the best. I can’t see how we could continue this charade when they are both in residence.”

_Charade_? Dorian wasn’t sure if that was more hurtful or rage-inducing. Nothing he’d done or felt had been play-acting. It had all been so very real to him; what he felt for Cullen was the biggest, truest and most real thing he’d ever had. And now… it was over. 

It was over. Cullen had made his choice, it seemed, without ever needing to consult him. There were no plans to be made, no enemy to be defeated. It was just over.

He wanted to scream his denial, wanted to grab hold of Cullen and shake him. He wanted to demand the blond admit that he’d felt _something_ for Dorian. What they’d crafted between them was not a charade or a game – it had been real, not something the mage had imagined all on his own. They’d soothed each other and held each other and made love. Dorian had held Cullen until the nightmares were gone, and Cullen had made Dorian feel needed and cared for. It had been real. It had been perfect. It hadn’t all been a lie.

Dorian wanted to beg Cullen to explain where this was coming from, ask why the blond was hurting them both – and surely the Commander _was_ hurting, even if he managed to look otherwise. He wanted to wrap his arm around the other man and kiss him until Cullen remembered that he cared. He wanted to declare his love and beg the Commander to love him back. He wanted to weep, he wanted to light Cullen on fire… he _wanted_.

But Dorian knew the look on Cullen’s face, and he knew what it meant for him.

So Dorian did what he’d learned to do in Tevinter, over and over and over again.

He let go, doing his best to pretend it didn’t matter.

“Is this what you want, Amatus?” That was all he allowed himself, his voice alarmingly rough after forcing past the ball of emotions lodged in his throat.

“It is.”

“I see.” Closing his eyes, Dorian took a deep breath, trying to find a new center, a new normal. He failed utterly, but he didn’t want Cullen to see. It was going to be very hard to pretend, but by the Maker, he could and would do it. “Well then! I shall depart and leave you to your business, Commander. I’m very sorry to have taken so much of your time – your lady will be arriving shortly, and I’m sure you wish to clean yourself up a bit. Rethink the cloak perhaps; dreadfully ugly thing.”

“Maybe you don’t find it fashionable, but I find it warm.”

“And for you, I suppose that’s enough. Very well, I won’t badger you about it. While I’m sure you would love for more time in my magnificent company, I fear I must be away. I’m a busy man, you know.”

“Yes. Busy.”

Dorian had expected relief from the blond that he was taking this so well; he’d expected the breezy banter to put his Amatus at ease. Instead, Cullen was staring at him with a strangely sorrowful expression, and his left hand was clutching convulsively at the hilt of his sword. An awkward silence fell, and Dorian had the sense that there was something he’d missed, some step he’d mangled in their complicated dance… but he couldn’t figure out what it was, and he couldn’t stand there looking at the blond for another moment. A retreat was definitely in order.

“Yes. Goodbye, Cullen.”

He didn’t even wait for the blond to reply – he left the tower as quickly as he could while still holding onto a shred of his dignity. Dorian could feel tears threatening, but he fiercely forced them back; he would _not_ show such weakness to these southerners. His heartbreak was his own fault and he deserved all the pain, but he would not put it on display for them to mock and delight in. He’d made the choice to bare his soul and open his heart to Cullen, allowed himself to fall into sentimentality and, Maker forgive him, in love with the Commander; he had no one to blame for his current state but himself. He should have held fast to all the lessons he’d learned in his life, and should never have let the blond see behind the mask.

All of that he accepted as truth, but he would be damned before he let anyone else in Skyhold to turn his personal tragedy into fodder. Once he got to his room he could fall apart, he told himself again and again. Once he got to his room, he could begin to mourn his devastating loss.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten about the Mabari he’d been told about by Harritt.

Later, he wouldn’t be able to recall what the woman looked like or anything they’d said to each other. He wasn’t really there in his body; it was operating largely without him. She didn’t matter – nothing really did anymore. Without Cullen, he didn’t need a Blighted dog, and the mage might well have sent the woman away… except.

Except the Mabari stood up in the basket the woman carried, propped his paws and chin on the edge, and watched Dorian with dark, intelligent eyes. He was smaller than the mage had thought he would be – a runt, he remembered. One that nobody wanted. Before that moment, he would have sworn that dogs didn’t have any emotions, let alone expressions… but this one did. The Mabari didn’t seem excited or scared; he watched Dorian with the resigned eyes of someone who knew they’d always be alone. He looked at Dorian like he knew the mage had decided to reject him without ever even seeing him.

Dorian took the Mabari.

When the furry little body – the one he’d placed at the foot of his bed – stumbled and bumbled his way up to the pillows, Dorian didn’t have it in him to scold or move the pup back. When a small, damp tongue rasped over his cheek to gather the tears streaming from his eyes, all the mage could do was sniffle and give the thing a half-hearted push with one hand. When the hound whimpered and then gave a mournful, adorable howl that held an echo of his pain, Dorian felt a smile flit over his lips, and he ran the hand that had tried to push the dog away down his back instead.

And when the Mabari curled up beside his head and let Dorian bury his face in soft, warm fur as he wept… well. Dorian decided dogs weren’t nearly as awful or smelly as he’d always thought.

~.~.~

Hours later, after true dark had fallen on Skyhold, Bull came to find him. He was still on his bed, and he knew he looked dreadful – he hadn’t bothered to fix his face after the first bout of tears, or the second, and his hair and clothes were hopelessly mussed. His skin was probably blotchy, there was likely kohl everywhere, and his mustache had almost assuredly forgotten the meaning of the word ‘order’.

Dorian didn’t care.

Propped up into a sitting position, surrounded by pillows, he had that adorably stupid Mabari on his chest. The thing was sitting as well, one ear up and his head cocked to the side as Dorian read to him from the borrowed book on his kind. He seemed _interested_ , stubby little tail wagging every time he heard something that pleased him and whimpering when the book mentioned things like ‘bath’ or ‘nail clipping’. He was adorable and smart, and Maker help him, Dorian was turning into a Ferelden in his grief.

Bull didn’t knock – never did – just opened the door and entered, closing it behind him. Dorian didn’t say a word as the Qunari leaned back, arms folded over his chest as he regarded the mage and Mabari with one steady eye. His new friend wasn’t intimidated or impressed; both ears went down as he leaned his head over the book in Dorian’s hands, glowering at Bull and growling his best puppy growl. In true Bull fashion, the Qunari growled back, and the pup started, tumbling back and landing on Dorian’s neck, where he curled up and gave an uncertain whine. The mage smoothed one hand down his back, then turned his attention to the Qunari. They stared at each other for long, silent moments until Bull snorted and shook his head.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks ever so much. Out please.”

“No ‘welcome home’ fuck, I take it?”

“No.”

“Not even a kiss?”

“No.”

“We gonna talk about this?”

“If we must.”

“Dammit Dorian. Stop acting like a pretentious asshole and talk to me.” He stalked toward the bed, and Dorian felt a moment of unreasoning panic; securing his hold on the pup, he dropped the book and stood, pacing as he cuddled his new friend.

“I hated you sleeping with other people. Every time it happened, I wanted to kill you. I chose you, and you wouldn’t choose me back.” His words were coming in an anxious tumble; Bull, who’d come to a stop in the middle of the room, regarded him with utter seriousness, following the flow of his words with ease.

“I know that. You aren’t exactly spy material, Dorian. You’re easy to read, for a ‘Vint.”

“You _knew_? Then why? Why did you do it?”

“Didn’t seem that important.” Bull answered, one massive shoulder lifting. “Not when you wouldn’t fight me about it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Coming to a stop, Dorian glared at the Qunari with his arms full of nervous puppy, one who alternated between growling at Bull and frantically licking Dorian’s chin. “It was killing me, you great lummox! It was killing me and you knew, but you did it anyway because I wouldn’t fight you?”

“Yup.”

“Oh. Well that makes perfect sense then.”

“Woah, tone down the sarcasm there. We can do this without ripping each other apart, don’t you think?” 

“If you stop with the all-knowing, circular logic bullshit, I will happily stop with the sarcasm.”

“Alright.” Bull agreed easily, shrugging again; strangely, some of Dorian’s tension drained away. “Come on. Let’s sit down and figure this out, Kadan.”

“Don’t call me that.” Dorian complained as he trudged over to the bed, sitting on the edge. Bull plunked down beside him, legs spread wide as he hunched over, elbows on his thighs and hands dangling almost to the floor. “You clearly don’t think of me that way.”

“You’re wrong, Dorian.”

“If it’s true, how could you sleep your way through Skyhold while I bled inside?” There was no anger or accusation in his voice; Dorian wasn’t angry anymore, after all. Now he was just tired. His Mabari seemed to have noticed the change, because the growling had stopped; the pup regarded Bull curiously, wriggling a little to let Dorian know he’d very much like to go sniff this strange new person. Dorian let him go, smiling as the dog picked his careful way down his lap and toward the Qunari, sniffing eagerly and ducking out of the way of the huge hand Bull tried to pet him with.

“I care about you, Kadan. I always will; you _are_ a person that has a claim on my heart. But I couldn’t give it all to you, Dorian. Fuck, I don’t think you really wanted it all. If you loved me that way, you wouldn’t have put up with me fucking around the way I did.”

“That is so… it’s so ridiculous, and so… so…”

“True?”

“I… yes. I suppose it is.” Dorian was surprised to find that he really did agree; he wasn’t just trying to placate the man who’d been his lover. He cared about Bull and always would... but he no longer believed himself in love with the Qunari. They were friends and comrades who’d found pleasure in each other – Bull had never given any real indication that it would ever be more. ‘Kadan’ wasn’t quite the same as ‘Amatus’; Dorian had just wanted it to be. Dorian had wanted to love someone, wanted someone to love him… he’d wanted it so badly that he fooled himself into thinking he’d found it with Bull. They were companions who were fighting evil together, and they did share some closeness, but they’d never been emotionally intimate. He didn’t know enough about Bull to really be in love. His Tevinter sensibilities and need for grand passion had swept him away, dropping him into a sea of uncertainty he could have avoided if he’d just admitted the truth.

It hurt, realizing he’d never loved the man as much as he’d claimed to.

“If it could have been anyone, Kadan, it would have been you.” Bull sounded regretful, and one hand lifted to run a large finger down his cheek, Dorian didn’t pull away. “Even if you are a mage, and a ‘Vint. It would have been you.” The Qunari sighed and dropped his hand, shaking his head as he directed his attention to the floor. “But I have other responsibilities.”

“The Qun.”

“… yeah. Friends is one thing, even ones like you, but anything more and my superiors would know. Wouldn’t really go over well.”

“Your leash isn’t half so long as you let us think, is it?” Dorian only knew that Bull tensed because he knew him so well; he thought he was the only one besides Krem who would notice the change.

“Let’s not talk about that. Anyway, it couldn’t be you, or anyone. So I fucked around. Kept waiting for you to confront me, then I realized you wouldn’t. Didn’t feel so bad about it then, even if I didn’t like the way you were hurting. I thought it was better than giving you false hope. But Dorian…” Bull sighed and shifted uncomfortably, dislodging the Mabari who’d had his front paws planted on the Qunari’s leg. “If it could have been someone, if I were allowed…” The man looked up, single eye catching Dorian’s, the look there almost frighteningly intense. “I would have chosen you. I would have fought for you. You’re worth it, Kadan; you _deserve_ it. I just… can’t give it to you.”

“I understand.” And, remarkably, he did. Despite everything, Bull _was_ a Qunari; that he even came close to tempting the big ox away from his beloved Qun was a balm to his shattered heart. “Thank you for giving me what you could, Bull.”

“Thanks for letting me give it.” Smiling, the ox man cupped Dorian’s right cheek, then bent and gave him a sweet, chaste kiss; it was a kiss that meant ‘goodbye’.

It was more than his Amatus had given him.

Dorian winced at the memory as Bull pulled away, misery falling over him again like a heavy cloak. He leaned over the Qunari’s lap to grab the Mabari and dragged the pup into his own lap, cuddling with the warm, furry body.

“So. Things not going well with Cullen?”

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Dorian. Ben-Hassrath, remember?”

“You could at least pretend not to know everything about me.” Bull gave him a pointed look, Dorian sighed reluctantly, and the Mabari gave a soft ‘yip’ of encouragement. “No. Things are not going well.” Understatement of the age, Dorian thought, feeling tears gather in his eyes once more. “Not well at all.”

“Hn.” Bull watched him, then settled a heavy hand on the top of his head. “You fighting for him?”

“What?”

“Fighting for him, like you didn’t with me. It makes a difference, you know. Not that I want you to fight for me now!” Bull added with a laugh when Dorian sent him a flat look. “Like I said – wouldn’t work out. But Cullen… I don’t know. Seems like he expects people to give up on him, is all. Bet he’d like it if someone fought to keep him.”

Dorian couldn’t respond, because his brain was now working furiously. Cullen didn’t seem to think he deserved anything good – he actively fought against the notion he deserved anything at all, really. He stayed with Sylaera even though she slept around as much as Bull… sometimes even _with_ Bull. He would go back on lyrium if he was told to. He would walk away from the Inquisition and the troops he loved commanding if someone even hinted he wasn’t worthy of leading them. 

“You should fight for him, Dorian. Seems like a good guy – I’d trust him with you.”

“He doesn’t want me anymore.” Dorian answered through numb lips, heart pounding in his chest, thoughts tumbling fast and thick in his head.

“Maybe. Or maybe he wanted to give you a chance to walk away because he thought you deserved more. Maybe you believed him because that’s what you expect everyone to do. You’re always waiting for people to leave you, and when they do you just let them. You never ask them to stay. You never asked me to stay.”

“Because they won’t.”

“How do you know if you don’t ask?”

“I… I just do. It’s always been that way.”

“This isn’t Tevinter, Dorian. Cullen isn’t some ‘Vint noble who was just looking for a tumble in the sheets.”

No… no he wasn’t. What they’d found together was unexpected, but Cullen would never have fallen into bed with him just because of lust. He wasn’t the type – he wasn’t like Dorian. There had been something, something real and deep; something he hadn’t really believe he deserved. Something Cullen likely thought he didn’t deserve either. So instead of protecting the precious, rare thing that was growing between them… they’d both just walked away.

Dorian was so _tired_ of walking away.

“You’ll fight then. Good.” Bull sounded incredibly pleased with himself, which Dorian thought was a bit odd. He hadn’t expected a fight with the man about his Amatus, but he hadn’t expected the Qunari to be actively pushing him at the blond either. Maker, these ox men were odd… but he’d made Dorian smile again, and brought a tiny ray of hope back into his heart.

“It appears I must thank you again, Bull. If it turns out you were right, I will be in your debt until the end of time.”

“Which could be any day now, so you’d better act soon.” Bull winked with his single good eye, and Dorian couldn’t help but laugh. Catching the shift in mood, his Mabari barked and danced a moment in his lap before jumping down and running circles in the bed, jumping and snapping at the air a few times. When he stopped, he was draped over Bull’s lap, panting happily while his stubby tail wagged his body; both man and Qunari were laughing, the sound tapering off as Bull carefully scratched his head.

After a few moments of quiet, Bull petting the Mabari while Dorian watched, the Qunari gave a sigh and gently pushed the pup off. “Well, I better be going. Don’t want anyone thinking I came here and ‘conquered’ you again.”

“Indeed.” Dorian agreed, fighting the urge to smile as Bull stood.

“Mm. Gonna have to find another piece of ass. Maybe that redhead that works in the kitchens will be up for a ride.” Now Dorian laughed again as the giant walked to his door, feeling so much better for the talk they’d had. Why hadn’t he done this with Bull ages ago? Things would have been so different… “Dorian, just so you know… I’ve been told to offer the Inquisitor a full alliance with my people. We’ll have to leave Skyhold and head to the Storm Coast to finalize it. Gotta leave before the week is out to make it happen – I’d like you to come. Start fighting for your Commander before we go, or you’ll regret it later.” Before Dorian could thank him or ask for more information, Bull was gone, leaving Dorian and his Mabari alone.

For a while he sat there, taking the time to digest everything that had just happened – it had been a long, emotional day. What he felt for Cullen made his feelings for Bull seem pale and weak in comparison… because they were. He’d loved the _idea_ of Bull, not the actual man. With Cullen, it was different. With Cullen, it was more, and Dorian didn’t want it to end.

Bull had been easy to handle; there had never been any need for a complex plan to get him to step aside. The enemy, he knew now, was _not_ Sylaera Lavellan – she was only an obstacle, one that could be dealt with as easily as Bull if he and Cullen faced her together. The true enemy lived inside of them. To win Cullen, he would have to best the worst parts of both himself and the other man. To keep him, Dorian would have to fight.

“Come on then. We have strategizing to do.” He informed the Mabari, who performed another running dance on his bed, barking up a storm. Dorian couldn’t help but laugh at the display, leaving the dog to his antics as he went to his desk. Using paper and ink, he began to formulate a plan that would help him win over the man he loved… and when the pup managed to follow after him and clamber awkwardly into his lap, Dorian let him stay there. When he began to ‘help’ Dorian with the plan, he didn’t scold.

Somehow, it seemed fitting that his written strategy to win Cullen’s heart was covered in tiny paw prints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a slight turn I wasn't expecting, but... who am I to gainsay Cullen? ;_; It was what he wanted to do. ;_; I still can absolutely swear there will be a happy ending!! I promise promise promise! It's just that most times, the biggest threats to relationships aren't external - we just tell ourselves that's where the danger is.
> 
> Bull has always struck me as part warrior, part counselor. XD I dunno. In this headcanon, I like to think that he wants Dorian to be happy, and knows that he can't give what the mage would need.
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you and drive you all away. ;_;
> 
> Lastly, I totally realize that the whole Mabari scenario is a little too convenient, but I don't care. Dorian needed something snuggly. No regrets.


	18. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian decides it's best to have a chat in private with the Inquisitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaaah, sorry for the long wait in the update department. My muse went gallivanting off to parts unknown and left me behind holding a half-finished chapter. ;_; It was only through tears and many sacrifices that I managed to get her back.
> 
> Here it is! I hope it isn't terrible. XD Her stuff when she first starts working again is not always on point.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting! It means the world! <3

_Cullen –_

_I realize our relationship has again changed, but you still need to eat._

_Kattrin will tell me if you don’t, and will allow me to steal her._

_Eat, Mellitus._

_Dorian, Still Worried About You_

Looking down at the letter he’d penned, Dorian could feel the lack of cheer and sass; it seemed sad, which wasn’t exactly what he’d been going fore. Still, it was his best effort yet, as could be seen from the crumbled up pieces of vellum piled up around his feet. Some of them had been even more stilted, while some had been far too full of feeling. In none of them could he come off the way he normally did… but at least this one wasn’t likely to scare his Commander away entirely.

Kattrin was sitting in one of the chairs by the chess board, looking like someone had killed her favorite horse. The puppy – recently named Barkon Felix Muttrius – wasn’t enough to cheer her, though the Mabari was trying his best. He was at her feet, on his back and wriggling around, paws flailing as he begged for belly rubs. The recruit had thus far only given a few absent scratches, and was spending most of her energy making sad eyes at the mage.

“Darling, if you keep pulling that face you’re going to make me cry, and I’m a bit tired of that. Smile, if you please.” Folding up the short note, he stood from his desk and crossed to her, offering her the vellum with a flourish. “And take this to the Commander, will you? I don’t expect there will be a reply, but if I’m wrong just bring it here and leave it on my desk. I’ll be out and about for the afternoon, and I’d hate for you to interrupt your other duties trying to track me down.”

The woman took the note with a sniffle, nodding. “Yessir. Dorian…” she paused, whatever she wanted to say hovering on her lips, but she finally just shook her head and locked the words away. “I’ll get it to ‘im fast as may be.” She told him instead. “And if ‘e don’t eat, I’ll make sure you know straight away.”

“You are a gem among dog shit.” He praised, making her roll her eyes even as she blushed. The puppy at her feet quickly rolled over to sit, panting happily, one ear flipped back to lend him a rather goofy air. That proved too much for Kattrin, who gave in and gave his head a good scratch before she stood.

After giving Dorian a mock salute, she was gone, leaving the mage alone with his dog and his books. Felix watched her go, head cocked to the side, then tipped it back to look up at him. The man could swear there was a question in the bark he voiced, so he did something he’d once sworn never to do.

He answered a dog.

“Yes, that’s my opening move. I know you don’t find it impressive, but you don’t need to. I think he’ll appreciate it, and even if he doesn’t, I want him eating. Your judgmental eyes are unnecessary, and I’ll thank you to turn them elsewhere.” Felix snorted and reared back on his hind legs, pawing at Dorian’s trousers; after a moment, he gave in with a huge, dramatic sigh and picked the creature up. “I shan’t be doing this all the time. You’d best get used to walking on your own quickly.”

Felix’s only response was to lick Dorian’s chin; like the man he was named for, the beast had a happy nature. That was why he wasn’t sure he wanted to bring the pup with him on his errand – he didn’t deserve to be subjected to the horrid atmosphere Dorian was about to subject himself to. However, the only person he _might_ trust his new friend with was Dagna… and while he adored the dwarf, he didn’t think she would do well with a puppy to mind. It would likely turn into chaos, and Harritt would have a new reason to hate him when she and Felix tore the Undercroft apart.

So it was that he kept the Mabari in his arms as he climbed the stairs up to the main level of the keep. The pup made a few escape attempts when he saw new and exciting things, but otherwise seemed to sense this was A Very Important Mission. For the most part, he sat upright and regarded the world with all the gravity and dignity afforded him by the title of Barkon.

Sylaera didn’t generally encourage people to visit her quarters, but Dorian wasn’t about to let that stop him. He breezed past the guard posted at the lower door, not even letting the man stammer out the full challenge; he acted as if he had every right to be doing what he was doing. Between his reputation as a scary Tevinter mage who possibly practiced blood magic and the fact that he was considered part of the ‘inner circle’, he didn’t expect the guard to work too hard to stop him… and he was right. Shameful, really – if he were the spy some people seemed to think he was, the Inquisitor would now be in some danger.

Perhaps the fact that she was an utter _bitch_ kept her guards from being truly concerned for her wellbeing.

A thought to ponder another day, because he was about to beard the dragon in her den. Just outside the upper door, Dorian paused and listened; he wanted to be forewarned if she happened to be engaged in illicit activities. Hearing nothing, he gave the door a very business-like knock – backed by an adorably severe bark from Felix – waited a moment, then opened the door.

Once he had, he realized why she never had visitors, and why the guards didn’t try to stop him.

Apparently he’d caught her in the middle of sharpening one of her weapons – there was a small whetstone at her feet, and she held a long sword at the ready. Even if she hadn’t been doing that, the place was littered with weapons, one within easy reach no matter where the Inquisitor might find herself when someone entered her inner sanctum. For just a moment, he thought he saw panic cross her face, but if it had been there it quickly hardened into a stony glower. What struck him more than anything else was the fact that she was in _full armor_. In her room. Where she’d been for most of the day with no plans to leave that he’d heard of. Full. Armor.

The beige clothes she usually wore when he saw her around the keep were crumpled up on the floor in front of the fire – one boot looked as though she might have tossed it in, then changed her mind and rescued it from the flames a few moments later. He’d been here once before, after Alexius’ sentencing, to thank the Inquisitor for the defeated man’s life. The room was much changed, and not really for the better. She’d pulled down all the Inquisition trappings – wall hangings, drapes, heraldry – and he thought he saw a huge pile of suspiciously rich and red fabric shoved into one of her small side-rooms. The bed had been similarly stripped, and without all its finery, the gold and wood monstrosity looked both garish and sad. Dorian could see a nest of covers and pillows out on the balcony across from the door – Maker, was that where she _slept_?

An unexpected twinge of concern pricked him, but he shoved it aside. It didn’t _matter_ that she seemed determined to rid her space of anything Inquisition related. It didn’t matter that she was clearly trying to distance herself from her title, or that she was so homesick that she’d replaced the beautiful hangings Josephine had commissioned with clumsy ones she’d obviously made herself, embroidered with Dalish designs. It didn’t matter that she was so paranoid she wore armor here in the place she should feel the safest.

What the woman had done to his Amatus was unforgivable. No matter what her own struggles were, what demons of her own she was facing, she had no right to treat people the way she did.

“Dorian.” The greeting was wary and her beautiful blue eyes were cold. “May I ask what the **fuck** you’re doing in my room?” When she started towards him, her movements were full of predatory grace, and she was clutching the hilt of her sword so hard her knuckles were white. The mage didn’t answer right away, too busy trying to decide what he could say that might diffuse the situation. Reacting to her, Dorian’s tension or both, Felix gave the woman a warning growl, ears pinned back and his hackles raised. Strangely, despite the hostile nature of the gesture, it brought a warm smile to the woman’s lips, and she lowered her sword as she came to a stop. “I didn’t know you had a Mabari, Dorian. What’s his name?” Her voice was soft, sweet and full of the lilt of her people – the accent Josephine had worked so hard to kill. During the first part of their acquaintance she’d slipped often; he realized this was the first time he’d heard her speak this way in _months_. The woman sounded like the one he’d met in Redcliff’s Chantry, the woman he thought he might have liked… the woman who’d slowly turned into the Inquisitor he could hardly stand.

“He is Barkon Felix Muttrius.” Dorian answered, putting the haughty flair in his voice that had once made her giggle. This would all go so much more smoothly if she were in a good mood, after all. “He rules over the Imperium Kennels, you see. No dog in Tevinter would dare question him. You are in the presence of near royalty. I hope you are as honored as you should be.” For a moment he thought he’d gone too far, but Felix chose that moment to give another one of his adorable barks, trying to be authoritative but failing miserably.

Sylaera laughed, another thing he hadn’t heard from her in a long time. “Well it’s a pleasure to meet such a distinguished lad.” Reaching out, the woman let the pup sniff her fingers, and his tail began to way his body as he fought to escape Dorian’s hold. “Let him down – he can explore.” The mage hesitated a moment, then nodded.

“We did take a walk a short while ago… he should be able to mind his manners and not destroy anything of yours.” He let Felix down, and the pup immediately started galloping about, sniffing eagerly.

Correctly interpreting the sour twist of his mouth, she grinned. “Got something of yours though, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Dorian answered, grimacing. “I hadn’t realized that I won’t be able to sleep in as long as I like to now that he lives with me. I know now.” For a time, they both simply watched the Mabari explore. During that quiet moment, he could almost forget how much he hated the woman standing near him.

Almost.

It was when the Barkon went to that little side room and began happily pawing through the Inquisition cast offs that the mage found it within himself to break the mood. “I am sorry to have barged in on you, Lavellan, but it is a matter of some importance. I thought it best if I came to you myself.”

When she turned to look at him, one thin red brow was raised, and a bit of winter had returned to her eyes. “Is this about how you’ve been fucking Cullen?”

Maker, did _everyone_ know? Seeing her suddenly grin again, he realized that he’d spoken out loud.

“Not everyone, but you two didn’t hide it well.” She sounded amused, which was irritating, but that had to be better than angry, didn’t it? Probably, but who knew. “Not when you’re considered a ‘danger’ to the Inquisition and Cullen is its Commander. Wouldn’t be surprised if that bitch Giselle has a shadow tailing you. She couldn’t wait to tell me. Thought I’d execute you, I think.”

“That woman,” Dorian growled, hands clenching into fists. If he didn’t need to look so not-evil, he would happily cast petty, mostly harmless spells on her until the day one of them left. Since he and Lavellan were the only ones who seemed to dislike her, he knew that was a bad idea. What was more important just then, however, was the unexpected lack of explosion. “Are you… not angry then?”

“Oh, I’m fucking **furious**.” Sylaera answered calmly, which was actually more terrifying than if she’d been screaming at him. “In fact, if anyone but you had done it, I’d have killed them.” The flat look in her eyes and the way she gripped her weapon said that she was probably telling the truth, though he didn’t know why he was the exception.

“I see. Well, yes. That is what I’m here to discuss.”

“Nothing to discuss. It’s stopped now, and it’ll stay that way. Cullen promised.”

“Unless you promised to stop fucking your way through Skyhold as well, that’s hardly fair.”

“Ah ah ah.” Where Dorian’s voice had been tight with anger, the elven woman still sounded and looked calm, even pleasant… as long as one didn’t look into her eyes for too long. In their depths he saw a crystalized fury and a seed of the same madness so many Magisters seemed to possess.

The way she’d put the point of her sword against his throat was also mildly alarming.

“Careful there, mage. I like you, but that only goes so far. Still I _am_ a fair woman, whatever you might think.” In his opinion, the cold, sharp point that was digging into his skin was in direct conflict with that claim, but he kept _that_ to himself. From the corner of his eye, he saw Felix had stopped rooting around and was watching them, head cocked as he tried to decipher the mood. “Say what you came to say, Dorian. I promise I won’t kill you.” The sword dropped away and she smiled, that frigid look still in her eyes. “See? Reasonable and fair.”

And mad. Definitely mad, but he should perhaps refrain from mentioning that aloud.

“Very well, since you’re being so reasonable.” Another cool smile met his sarcasm, so he worked to make his voice less acerbic. “I will not be giving up my pursuit of him.”

“… what was that?”

“You heard me.”

“So you and The Iron Bull…”

“Remain friends, but he no longer shares my bed, and will not do so again.”

“Because of Cullen? My Commander?”

“No.” Dorian answered harshly, the idea of Cullen being _hers_ making him clench his fists tightly. “Because I didn’t love him, and he didn’t love me. It just took me a while to realize that.”

“Love has nothing to do with sex.”

“Of course it does!” he burst out, horrified by the simple absoluteness of the sentiment. “At least it should. Maybe not every time or with every person, but…” The faces of all his meaningless partners ran through his mind, along with the utter emptiness of every coupling. He’d gone to bed with them to try to fill that emptiness, and it hadn’t ever worked. Not until his Amatus… not until Cullen. “Love is ultimately the point of it all, isn’t it?” When she didn’t respond, he pushed on disbelievingly. “So you don’t love Cullen. Do you care about him at all?”

Even before he finished, she was laughing as if he’d told her the funniest joke she’d ever heard. There was mirth in the sound, but it was cold and calculating and sent shivers down his spine.

“ _Love_ him? You think I could love some filthy shemlen? One too weak to honor his oaths? One so fragile he can hardly sleep if there isn’t light filling his room? Pah.” Uncaring of the fact that they were inside, she spat on the floor in disgust, disdain and revulsion warring across her features. For a moment he was shocked more than anything at the obvious derision in her voice – he’d never heard her use the world shemlen before, nor so harsh a tone. Then, however, the insults to his Amatus penetrated, and his anger flared to life once more.

“He is _not_ weak.” Dorian ground out, taking a step toward her. He could feel tiny flames licking at his fingers and knew he should try to restrain his magic, but didn’t – if he gave the bitch a bit of a burn, it would serve her right. “He is the farthest thing from it, in fact. That his strength isn’t obvious to you is a failing on _your_ part not his.” They were circling each other now, a hint of caution in her eyes; her sword was raised between them, held in an easy grip while flames danced between his hands. “He is killing himself for this Inquisition. For _you_. He would give you everything if you just-”

“I will NEVER love a shem.” Sylaera proclaimed, expression cold as marble and the icy rage in her eyes growing even more pronounced. “It is enough that I let them touch me when necessary; they do not require my emotional involvement to fuck me, and I will not give it to them. That is all shems ever want from me, Dorian – a fuck with a pretty Elvhen toy that they can throw away like refuse once it’s broken.” Suddenly a hint of warmth broke through, and she offered him a small smile. “That’s why I like you. You’ve never looked at me with lust, not once. That’s why I can forgive you trying to take what is mine.”

“But you don’t even want him!” 

“No. When he touches me…” The woman shivered in revulsion, fear replacing the warmth before her expression iced over again. “After Haven, when they made me Inquisitor, I thought I could bear it for the sake of the fight. At least he never tried to corner me like some of the others there.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips, like poison dripping off a serpent’s fang. “They would say they wanted to teach me of Andraste, show me Her love. That’s the way they are, Dorian; that’s the way most male shems are. That’s the way he is deep down. But at least in Haven he only looked at me. I knew he wanted me, but he didn’t try to touch me.”

“Maker’s blood Sylaera, if you don’t want him to touch you, just tell him so.” Dorian told her, the flames of his magic gone, smothered by the weight of his horror at the picture she was painting. “He would never want you against your will.”

“I need him. The Inquisition needs him.” Perhaps he no longer had the heart to fight, but her sword was still up and they were still circling each other; she would have no compunctions about hurting him, he realized. None at all. “After he told me about the lyrium use, I knew I had to give him part of me. When his weakness finally consumes him, I need him to do what I say. He’s bound himself to _me_ now. He will do as I command, because he thinks he loves me. Cullen will fall to the addiction, Dorian, make no mistake about that. When that happens, he will go back on lyrium because _I_ will tell him to do so. If that is not enough and he remains a liability, he will step down because I command it. Until then, he will use his forces the way I ask him too. I have his utter loyalty, because I have his heart.”

“Manipulative little bitch.” Dorian breathed, staring at her in disbelief. She was smiling again, the look cold and distant and oh so mad. “He’d already pledged himself to the Inquisition; he was already yours to command. Why are you doing this to him, to yourself? There’s no sense to it.” She scoffed at him, obviously disdainful of his inability to recognize the genius of her plan. “And if you can hardly bear _his_ touch, why sleep with so many others? Most of your partners have been… shems.”

“Your kind listen to their cocks before sense.” A careless shrug followed her words, and he could almost believe she didn’t mind bartering her body for ‘loyalty’. “Once I have them in bed, they are more likely to follow me in the field. All I need do is give them a little look,” she paused to demonstrate, and he felt his stomach give a sour twist at the soft, vulnerable expression on her face as she looked up at him from under her lashes. “And they remember me naked in bed and at their service. They do what I ask them to do in the hopes of having me there again. Even Blackwall, that paragon of shemlen virtue. That’s all it takes – a warm body. Even if they knew their touch made me sick, they would still take me given half the chance. Why shouldn’t I use it to my advantage?”

“Sylaera-”

“That’s why I would fuck The Iron Bull, you know. I felt badly, borrowing him from you, but he isn’t a _shem_ , or a servant like the flat-ears here. I don’t throw up after he’s done touching me – he and Sera are wonderful that way.”

“Why don’t you just-”

“I need the loyalty of the shems, Dorian. The women follow me because the men do, and the men follow me because I occasionally visit their beds. We all get what we want.”

“But not _Cullen_.” He couldn’t let himself get tied up in her story, couldn’t let himself be distracted by the Inquisitor’s maddening logic; he needed to remember why he was here. “It’s killing him that you won’t be faithful – why not just end it? He will still follow you.”

“I won’t take that chance. If that’s all you have to say…” Shrugging, she turned away, and Dorian forgot himself in the surge of anger and panic that followed the dismissive gesture. Taking two quick steps forward, he grabbed hold of her upper left arm, desperate to make her _listen_ … and the world shifted entirely around him. The mage wasn’t sure what she did, exactly, but whatever the move was it had him pinned against the wall faster than he could blink. All the breath was driven from his body as he slammed against it, and his vision went white for just a moment from the impact; a dull ache flared at the base of his skull and began to pound insistently. Sylaera was close now as she threatened him – they were almost body-to-body, really – and the sharp edge of her blade was laid across his throat as she stared up into his eyes. “Don’t you _ever_ touch me, Dorian.” She told him softly, voice and eyes absolutely dead. “Keep your shemlen hands to yourself.”

Felix, forgotten in the face of their disagreement, made himself known again when he lunged at the Inquisitor, growling as menacingly as he could. His teeth made a sharp, painful-sounding ‘ding’ when they met with the metal of her boot, and though the pup whimpered as he dropped away, he didn’t let the pain stop him from lunging again. When the Inquisitor looked down at the small Mabari with her cold, empty eyes, Dorian experienced a moment of shocking clarity.

If she hurt his dog, he would kill her.

Thankfully, Sylaera seemed to have a soft spot for dogs; Felix’s intervention was enough to get her to drop her sword and give another small smile. “You’re right, little warrior.” She cooed at him, ignoring the mage she still had pinned to the wall completely. “I did promise not to kill him, didn’t I? Forgive me.” When her eyes flicked back to Dorian, they were warmer than they had been, and a small knot of tension in him eased – perhaps they would both live through this after all. “Fen’Harel will never dare intrude on your dreams, friend, with such a faithful beast at your side.” 

“I have ever been lucky in my friends, if not much else.” Dorian murmured, searching her expression for some hint of what was going on in her mad little mind. “And I must apologize for touching you – didn’t realize that was such a no-no. Now I do, and it shan’t happen again, I promise. Well, unless we’re in battle and I need to save your life by heroically shoving you to the side of an arrow or some such nonsense. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Sylaera echoed, lips curving up in another tiny smile as she took two steps back from him. “Now tell me why this means so much to you. Before I left, you and Cullen were barely friends… but here you are, ready to fight me for him.”

“Love turns us all a bit mad, Sylaera, and according to many I had something of a head start.”

Now she was staring at him, all huge eyes and shock-parted lips. It was enough to make a fellow feel self-conscious, and as she took a few steps further back, he cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his shirt. “L… _love_? You love him? But before… you weren’t even… you never spent that much time… how?”

“I’m a ‘Vint, he’s near-perfect… it was bound to happen, really. I told you once, Lavellan – my people feel deeply. Besides, time is such a silly thing to use as a measure for it.” Bending down, he scooped up his fierce little defender, who promptly began washing his neck and chin. “I love him already, and I only met him yesterday. I spent almost thirty years with my father, and he never really loved _me_. You may think love and sex not related at all, but I think love and time have only a small impact on each other. To each their own, yes? You don’t really need to know the how or why of it, just that I do. So I won’t let him go so easily, and I have two demands to make of you.”

“Demands, Dorian? Really?”

“Yes. Demands. The first is that you will _not_ order him to take lyrium again, not while I draw breath. Dagna and I are working on a way to ease the pangs of addiction to the stuff; I am absolutely brilliant and she is one of the finest minds Orzammar has ever relinquished to the surface, in my opinion. We will come up with something, and I will not have you subjecting _my_ Commander to its ravages in the meanwhile.”

She looked caught between amusement and anger again, like she wanted to lash out but with Dorian _and_ a puppy to contend with she didn’t know how. “And your second demand?”

“Stop forcing him to put the lights out. You find it traumatizing when we shems touch you, yes?” The woman gave a tight nod, and he hurried to continue when he saw her fingers tighten on her sword again. “Those nightmares make him feel the same way. You have no right to force that on him, or to ask him to… to fuck you when he’s just coming out of them. It isn’t right, Sylaera.” He’d noticed that she went soft on being called ‘Lavellan’ instead of ‘Inquisitor’, and that her given name seemed to make her melt even further. He wasn’t above capitalizing on that. “You’re better than all the shems who want to touch you.” He added in a coaxing voice. “I know that you are. So please, stop doing that to him… to both of you. You feel better about the sex when you fight it first, yes?” Another nod, this one accompanied by trembling lips and rapidly blinking eyes. “Perhaps, for a time, you could simply not have sex with him. It would be better for both of you.”

“Pah. You only say that because _you_ want him, and can’t stand the thought of me h-having him while you can’t.”

“Maybe a little, but mostly because I know you don’t value him the way I would… the way I do. It hurts me to think of him hurting over you. Over anything. That’s why I will find a way to break the hold lyrium has over him, and I will find a way to safeguard his dreams. I can’t protect my Amatus from every hurt, but by the Maker I can try.”

Again with the staring! It was unnerving to have her look at him like that, as if he were the crazy one and she didn’t know whether to laugh or slit his throat. After long moments, her head tipped to the left, and she gave the softest of giggles. “You look almost like a hero when you say things like that.” She told him, the lilt back in her voice along with just a hint of fondness. “Very gruff and determined. You’ll fight me if I don’t agree, won’t you?”

“With everything I have. Though I’d wait until Felix was put somewhere out of harm’s way. He may be Barkon, but he’s still only a pup.”

“Mm. He’ll have to grow into his defense of you. I’ll have Josie look for the best kennel masters and bring one or two here. Your lad should grow up proud and strong, and the Inquisition should have hounds, don’t you think?”

“I do think. Now. What say you to my demands?”

“I don’t want to fight you, Dorian. You’re my friend.” There was such an earnestness there, an almost child-like quality to their voice. She truly believed they were friends, despite everything. “But I _need_ Cullen on my side. I need… I need someone on my side. I can’t just…” She came to a stop, cocked her head to one side like she was listening to something, and then gave a firm nod and a small smile. “Very well. For now, I won’t make Cullen put out the lights or put him back on lyrium – he’s doing well enough at the moment. However! I don’t acknowledge your claim to him either. Not yet. He’s still mine, Dorian, until he comes to me and tells me otherwise. Some nights I will be in his bed. Some nights we’ll fuck. He chose me, Dorian. Until he tells me that he’s changed his mind and chooses you, he’s mine. If he can’t do that in a reasonable amount of time… well! The game is over.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“No. It isn’t. But those are my terms… until Cullen comes to me to negotiate new ones.”

It was all he would get from her, Dorian knew. And perhaps she had the right of it after all – Cullen was no mindless beast, or a toy to be squabbled over. He was a man who could speak for himself; all Dorian could really do was hope his Commander would find him more appealing than the red-headed madwoman standing in front of him.

“You are, as ever, a fair and reasonable woman.” He told her, giving a bow with an extra flourish. “I am very glad we had this chat, Sylaera. I promise not to make it a habit to come to your quarters unannounced. This was just… a very sensitive topic.”

“It was, you’re right. Better to keep it all away from prying eyes. But Dorian?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever come here again.”

Her sweet, lilting voice fooled him – Dorian thought he was dealing with the rational part of her. His guard was down as he smiled at the woman, and even Felix was panting happily, tail wagging him as he squirmed in the man’s arms. The mage opened his mouth to reply, and never saw her fist coming… not until the mail-covered appendage had planted itself in his nose with a spray of blood and a crunching pain that had him stumbling back into the wall again.

He _felt_ his nose give way under the onslaught, but he could do little more than wheeze in surprise. Distantly, he could hear Felix barking furiously, heard the Inquisitor bid him a good day; part of him was sure she was guiding/forcing him out of her quarters, but he wasn’t completely aware of the move until he was leaning back against the outside of her upper door. He sank to the floor slowly, one arm cradling his frantic hound while the other hand was covering the spewing, offended appendage.

“ _Fasta vass_! That bitch broke my nose!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I laughed myself silly over the name of the dog, because that's how dumb I am. XD Should it be Barchon though? That looks funny, but so does Barkon, and I had a real hard time deciding between the two. :p
> 
> I haaate Sylaera, but in a way that makes me want to write a whole separate story about her because I know why she's so terrible. Very frustrating.


	19. Healing and Declarations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fixing what Sylaera broke during their 'discussion', Dorian plans and executes his next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to get this out yesterday, but then went and watched Captain America: Civil War again and it destroyed me even harder than the first time, so I had to go find happy(ish) Stony fics to read to mend my broken heart.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the support you all! It makes me so very happy and keeps me going. <3

“She broke my nose.”

“So you’ve said. Repeatedly.”

“She _broke_ it.”

“Yes. I know. I am attempting to fix it. If you could be silent?”

“My nose. Maker, it’s going to be crooked. A mustache this fabulous deserves a straight nose. And she _broke it_.”

“Dorian.” At any other time, the mage in question would have heeded the growing irritation in Solas’ voice. He would have noticed the thinning patience and adjusted his behavior accordingly so as to not unduly irritate the man healing him… but just then, he felt an almost overwhelming need to whine, and void take the consequences.

“Solas, can you fix it? This… this healing is taking a long time. It clearly isn’t going well. Just tell me the truth… how crooked?”

Solas made a sound of disgust and yanked his hands away from the appendage in question. Dorian was absolutely sure that the mean-spirited elf had purposefully bumped his nose to make him hiss and jerk in pain.

“You came to me for aid. I am trying to render it. If you would cease your prattle, your nose might already be fixed.” Seeing Dorian’s mouth open, Solas held up one hand, effectively stopping any reply before it could be given. “Will you be silent so I may focus? If you believe it beyond you, then I will send you to one of the actual healers. I am nearing the end of my patience. Is that clear?”

Dorian thought a moment, then sighed and waved a hand for the elf to continue. He did, and the human mage winced as cartilage once more began to shift, the damage done by the Inquisitor mending. Dorian was _sure_ it wasn’t supposed to be such a _long_ process. Maybe he should have gone to one of the designated Circle healers.

But they were _so_ poorly trained, and many of them seemed frightened of him. Beyond that, he hadn’t exactly relished the thought of traipsing about Skyhold with blood spouting from his nose as he searched for one of them.

Solas hadn’t even blinked when his sometimes-pupil came into the rotunda and made a rather pathetic plea for help. He hadn’t asked any questions – though Dorian had still very quickly told him that the _Inquisitor_ had been the one to _break_ his nose – just sat the man down and turned his face from side to side, getting a handle on the problem. Felix hadn’t been impressed with the elf, and was still growling little challenges at him from under Dorian’s chair. Solas had seemed equally unimpressed with the pup on first meeting him, and had only stared for a few moments before giving a dismissive sound and commanding Dorian to put him down. Despite wanting the comfort of cuddling the furry body close, he’d obeyed, and the Barkon had immediately retreated under the chair.

Once that was done, Solas calmly explained a bit about how he would be directing his magic so Dorian could fix it himself next time he irritated someone to that extent – the elf was so _sassy_ sometimes. The healing had begun, and the human mage had expected it to be over quickly. Instead it had dragged on and on and _on_ , a strangely soft pinching pain in his nose the whole time. It was irritating and drawn out, and so Dorian whined. Even now, after Solas’ very clear warning, he could feel the urge building again. He fought it off as long as he could, he really did… but while he was a man with many virtues, patience wasn’t always his best one. Tolerance for pain ranked even lower on the list, and so before long, he found himself speaking again.

“Maker, Solas. Why is this taking so _long_?”

Suddenly, the other mage’s bland mask was gone. He didn’t look vaguely, condescendingly irritated anymore, oh no – he looked _pissed_. It was the kind of look that would usually make the one receiving it enter prey mode, either fleeing or freezing in hopes of escaping a predator about to go for the jugular. Earlier that day, it might have terrified him… if he’d seen it before Lavellon had made mincemeat of his nose, he would be shaking in his warm boots. Now, however, he mostly felt guilty that he’d asked for a favor then behaved like a spoiled, sullen brat. Making Solas angry was a poor way to repay him.

Before Dorian could apologize, the healing process gathered speed… and _fuck_ if it didn’t hurt so much worse than that gentle but consistent pinch. It felt almost like it was breaking again, only in a much stranger, stomach-churning way, and Maker _why_ did he keep pissing off elves? It was over a few moments later, so that was nice… but now he was panting and nauseous from the pain of it all, so he wasn’t sure the trade-off was worth it.

“That is why I was going slowly.” Solas’ words were so incredibly precise, and his tone of voice sharp enough to cut – Dorian was surprised the air itself didn’t start bleeding. “I did not want to cause undo suffering. Healing is rarely painless, you flamboyant fool. Compressing the process worsens that, and I am not enough of a healer to ease that pain as I work. Novices such myself – and you when you begin healing – should always work slowly when the damage is not life threatening.”

Even when furious, Solas couldn’t help but impart wisdom, Dorian noted, feeling almost fond of the shabby elf despite the way he still sort of wanted to throw up on his bare feet. “I apologize, Solas. I should have trusted you knew what you were doing. You wouldn’t have agreed to help if you didn’t. I have abysmal manners and should be whipped until they improve. Can you ever forgive me for sulking so?”

The other mage’s mouth opened, but then he paused and blinked, stopping himself. He looked almost confused, and Dorian realized he hadn’t anticipated an apology. “Ah. Yes. Well. Perhaps I should have given you the reason behind the slow progress.” He shifted his weight uneasily, then nodded once. “So we are both at fault.” The obvious anger was gone, leaving an almost-frown born of confusion that then shifted into that irritating not-quite smile. “I must also admit that I left the bruising, and am still not inclined to heal it. Your nose is straight – I did not want your mustache to look any more ridiculous than it already does – but your face is quite… colorful.”

Dorian stared at him in shock a moment, mouth hanging slightly open, then shook his head. “You’re a wicked man under all those rags, aren’t you?”

A mysterious smile broke out over his lips, and Dorian felt a sudden chill go down his spine – the smile reminded him of Sylaera, and _now_ he was a little frightened.

“We’re all wicked, Dorian, in one way or another. Now go. Take the dog with you.” Solas turned and wandered away, left elbow in his right hand, left hand at his chin as he stared up at one of the murals he’d painted on the opposite wall. Dorian stood, then bent to scoop Felix up into his arms; when he straightened, it was to find Solas watching him over his shoulder. “Should I be worried about the Inquisitor, Dorian?”

“… I think we should all be worried, Solas.”

~.~.~

Dorian really didn’t want to know what his face looked like, and he had a mirror in his room… so he very purposefully didn’t go there. He headed to his little library instead, and if he was hoping to find a note from Cullen waiting for him on his desk, well there was nothing wrong with that. Just like there was nothing wrong with the thrill that shot through him when he saw a piece of folded up vellum waiting there for him like a present. He gently set Felix down, and the pup jumped up to give his chin one quick lick before he could straighten, then galloped over to ‘his’ corner. The pup flopped onto the nest of blankets there and began happily gnawing on one of his bones, letting Dorian turn his full attention to the happy news waiting on his desk.

Or maybe not so happy, as he realized when he unfolded it. It looked like Cullen had encountered the same difficulty he had when it came to composing a note, only he’d confined them all to one sheet. There were multiple attempts, all crossed out heavily enough that Dorian couldn’t read what they once might have been. Finally, written in heavy, blocky script was the shortest note he’d ever gotten from his Amatus.

**I do not require a nursemaid.**

Crammed beneath in the last possible bit of space was a smaller, neater hand – Kattrin’s, most likely – verifying that the Commander had at least eaten the offering of food. That was… something, he supposed. Still, Cullen’s reply was so short, so forbidding, so… so _final_.

It was, frankly, enraging.

“You were right, Felix. While I do want him eating, my opening move was an utter failure.” The dog answered with a soft yip, but was clearly more interested in his bone than his daddy’s romantic woes. “I shall have to plan something else. Some would encourage subtlety, but I think that’s where I went wrong. I’m so poor at it, after all – being discrete has never been a strong point of mine, I fear. You’ve fallen in with a very flashy man, my darling Felix, as your title of Barkon undoubtedly demonstrates.” As he plopped down into his chair and pulled out a blank sheet of vellum with a flourish, he noted that the space around him was clean. Kattrin had obviously tidied up all his discarded earlier attempts – she was such a dear woman – so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. She was worried and sweet, and he would have to include her in his plans as soon as possible. His little spy was going to be a most valuable ally in this fight.

While Dorian knew exactly what he wanted to do, he sat in thoughtful silence for long moments. He wanted to do this _right_ , in a way that his Commander would respect, understand, and appreciate. He didn’t want to hold anything back, because that had _always_ been his downfall. Don’t ever give them enough to hurt you, his past whispered constantly in his ear, speaking in his father’s voice. They’ll never love you, and they’ll always hurt you, so never give them everything – give as little as possible, so they can’t shatter you completely. He’d always listened, and though he’d been getting better, even with Cullen he’d succumbed to those seductive, sinister whispers in the end. Not giving his Amatus everything hadn’t saved him from shattering; it was time to do things differently. If he wanted this, he had to ignore those whispers – he had to ignore the fear and panic that was rising in his chest. He had to let that go, and put himself out there.

It was time to peel off the mask.

Dorian took a deep breath, then reached for his quill… and began to laugh when he looked down at his hand. “For the love of Andraste… I’m _shaking_. Oh how they would laugh in Minrathous if they could see me now – the fabulous and dazzling pariah reduced to a quivering mess over a scruffy former Templar with crippling emotional problems. Felix love, you must promise never to reveal how pitiful I am.” The Mabari made a soft noise that sounded like an agreement, and the mage looked over his shoulder to smile at the hound. Felix had even stopped chewing on his bone and was watching the man with eager, intelligent eyes, ears perked and stubby tail wagging gently behind him. He was clearly offering Dorian encouragement and a steadfast, unquestionable kind of love, and the mage found himself unexpectedly blinking back tears. “I can do this, Felix. I _can_.”

He could almost feel a thin, warm arm drape across his shoulder and give a squeeze; in his ear, he could swear he heard a different Felix whispering. ‘ _Yes you can_ ’. That, of course, had him straightening in his chair and grabbing hold of his quill with a firm, sure grip. If his Felix – both his Felix’s, really – believed in him, there was no way he was going to let them down. Not in this… not with Cullen at stake.

With a steady hand, he began to write, pouring his heart out into ink and vellum. He was finally ready to put it squarely and unmistakably in his Commander’s hands… and he could only hope the man would accept it.

~.~.~

There was no way Dorian was going to wait for Kattrin to deliver this letter – partly because he wouldn’t see her until the next day, but mostly because he knew she would find a way to read it. While he didn’t mind her getting a sneak peek at most of their correspondence, this was something his Amatus needed to see before anyone else – sharing the contents or not would be entirely his decision. It wasn’t simply a folded piece of vellum that he was carrying to Cullen’s tower either. He’d treated it like the important document it was, sealing the letter with black wax and an impression of the seal of House Parvus – his father had sent him a signet ring _instead_ of books, as if to remind him he could never outrun his family – and even attached a very official-looking ribbon to the front next to Cullen’s name. 

All in all, there was no mistaking the importance of the letter in his hands… his slightly damp, trembling hands. Maker, he was absolutely pathetic. Not even an hour after deciding to be brave, he was shaking like a leaf again; if Felix weren’t trotting along beside him, panting happily when they weren’t going upstairs and giving grumbling snorts when he had to struggle up them, Dorian probably would have turned around. With his Mabari, however, that simply wasn’t an option. He couldn’t have his own dog realizing what an utter coward he could be, so onward he marched. When he passed Solas in the rotunda on his way to the wall, he gave the elf a quick wave but no other greeting – he didn’t miss the small smirk on the other mage’s lips, and for some reason the expression made him blush.

It would have been polite to knock on the door that led to Cullen’s office, but so few people in the Inquisition had accused him of being such. It would be a shame to let them all down, so after pausing to take a breath, he looked down at Felix, took firm hold of his courage, and then swung the door open with a great amount of nervous gusto.

Too much gusto, because it slammed against the wall and almost came back to hit him in his already-abused nose. Thankfully, he was able to stop it with one foot, but it was a close thing. Later, he would scold his pup for the soft ‘whuff’ he made that sounded suspiciously like a doggy laugh, but just then he ignored it. He was too busy staring at Cullen, who was standing behind his desk; the man was still hunched over, hands planted on the surface on either side of some document that was undoubtedly almost as important as the one Dorian held in one hand that he was trying desperately to keep steady. His Amatus wasn’t looking down at it anymore, however. His attention had gone immediately to the door, and Dorian drank in the play of expressions on his face like a man dying of thirst. Surprise, irritation, pleasure… and then alarm, which began warring with fury. 

Alright, a possible miscalculation had been made – he hadn’t intended to make Cullen angry.

But he was being brave, by the Maker’s balls, so he stood his ground and braced himself, ready to deliver his missive and flee. Vaguely, he heard two female gasps and one male voice give something that might have been a squawk, but his eyes were only for Cullen as his Commander walked around the desk, left hand clenching the hilt of his sword. There was a barely contained rage in his movements, and if he’d been a lesser man, Dorian might have shrunk away in fear… but his Amatus would never hurt him, not without dreams lingering in and clouding his mind. His trust was rewarded, because when Cullen got close enough – too close, because now Dorian could _smell_ him and _Maker_ he wanted a kiss – both of the blonde’s hands lifted, and framed Dorian’s face ever so gently, like he were something precious. This close, the mage could see concern at the heart of Cullen’s anger.

“Who did this to you?” Oh dear. The rumbling, growling threat in his voice was nearly enough to make Dorian swoon, and more than enough to turn him temporarily stupid. He only blinked in response, not entirely sure what the other man was on about. Cullen was not impressed with his silence, and his scowl turned even fiercer – the mage thought that he should perhaps not find this nearly as arousing as he did. “Dorian, someone hurt you. You will tell me who _now_.”

“Cullen, you cannot-” Ah, Cassandra’s voice – mystery female two was probably Kattrin. Not that the Seeker got to speak for long, because his Amatus very quickly interrupted.

“Kill whoever did it? Yes, actually. I can. I may not be in the field often anymore, Cassandra, but I assure you I still retain considerable skill. Now tell me who did this to you, Dorian.” Though his voice had gone even deeper, violence laced in the tone, his hands were still gentle. One thumb lightly brushed alongside Dorian’s nose, and the soft touch was surprisingly painful; he let out a soft hiss and recoiled just a little, the bruises Solas had left on his face returning to his memory in the most unpleasant way. His reaction was enough to turn the look in Cullen’s eyes absolutely murderous, the concern vanishing and tension radiating from him. Dorian had no doubt that if he named Andraste as his attacker, his Amatus would find a way to assault the Veil and track down the Maker’s Bride to extract vengeance on his behalf.

Sylaera, the actual source, was a bit trickier.

“Calm yourself, Mellitus.” Dorian murmured, giving the blond a warm smile as he lifted his empty hand, brushing his knuckles over Cullen’s cheek. “I just had a bit of an accident. Solas healed most of the damage, but I somehow managed to annoy him – I know, Seeker, it’s impossible to picture,” he interrupted, finally looking over at Cassandra when she snorted in amusement, winking at her. “I’m so very charming. I don’t know how he overlooks that fact. Anyway, he sent me away once my nose was no longer broken, and tasked me with healing the bruises myself. I got… caught up in something and haven’t had the opportunity yet to do so.”

“An accident?” Cullen’s voice was tight with disbelief and anger, his hands still framing Dorian’s face… and he hadn’t pulled away from the mage’s touch either. Hope soared in Dorian’s heart, because Cullen still so obviously _cared_. “So you won’t tell me how it happened then?”

“Someday, Mellitus. When you’re older.”

Scowling at him, his Commander opened his mouth to reply… only to be stopped by an inquisitive bark. Dorian saw Cullen’s eyes look down, then widen in surprise; he followed the man’s gaze in time to watch Felix finish sniffing his trousers. Apparently he approved, because he gave a happy whine, tail wagging his entire body as he danced in place, clearly begging for attention from the blond. For long moments, he stared, and then his eyes came back to Dorian’s, brown clashing with and then holding grey. There was such an intensity to his gaze, emotions running through them that Dorian couldn’t place… or maybe was afraid to name, because being wrong would kill him. Finally, the man cleared his throat and pulled away from Dorian enough that he could bend, offering his fingers for a sniff as well.

Felix obliged with great enthusiasm, then jumped up and got one frantic lick to Cullen’s chin in – his favorite trick – before giving another happy whine. Once he was back on four paws, he didn’t stay that way long, rearing up on his hind legs to paw at the blonde’s trousers. Without a second thought, Cullen scooped the pup up, laughing softly. Almost quicker than he could watch, the pup was settled against his chest in one arm, and Cullen’s free hand was running over his head and back, petting the dog eagerly several times before delivering an ear scratch that had Felix absolutely limp with pleasure.

Cullen’s hands were so very talented, and now he was _jealous_ of his _dog_.

“What’s his name?” The question was so soft that Dorian almost missed it; he was too busy being consumed by envy and wishing Cullen was still that willing to pet _him_.

“Hm? Oh. Felix. Barkon Felix Muttrius.” The male that had made the embarrassingly pitiful noise earlier snorted derisively at the name, even as Cullen and Cassandra began to laugh. Dorian looked for the disparager… and was utterly unsurprised to find Nylan. He narrowed his eyes at the recruit, and was very pleased to see him swallow hard. “I see your right eyebrow is coming in nicely. Let me know if you’d like me to take care of the other one so they look more even.” The warning was heard loud and clear, and Nylan swallowed hard again before shifting away from him to half-hide behind Kattrin, who rolled her eyes.

“Dorian, do not threaten the recruit thus.” Cassandra ordered, causing Dorian to look over and arch a brow. “If you are going to threaten, do it _properly_. Otherwise there is no point.”

“There will be no more threatening of Nylan.” Cullen interrupted, merriment still clear in his voice. His strong, capable fingers were still deeply involved in lavishing attention on the Mabari, and Dorian felt… oddly guilty. Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken the pup – perhaps he should have sent the woman to Cullen’s tower instead. His Amatus had been pining after a Mabari of his very own since he was a child, and now he – a Tevinter mage who didn’t even really _like_ dogs – had obtained one first. “I think it’s a fine name… he’ll grow into the title, I can tell. He seems small for his age, but look.” Taking gentle hold of one leg, he lifted it in the air. “He has big paws. Given the proper care and feeding, he’ll be a big, brawny fellow someday. Won’t you?” He asked Felix with a smile, causing the pup to start bathing his neck and chin in kisses. Now the Commander was laughing again, but the yearning in his eyes was tearing Dorian’s heart out. Part of him wanted to hand the dog over, except he really did love the silly thing, and Felix would be devastated to be abandoned by such a charming, wonderful master. Now it was simply doubly important to win his Amatus back.

“He will. I’ll make sure of it – I’m going to take good care of him, Cullen.” He promised softly, keeping the rest of his thought, the part where they could take care of him together, to himself. “I actually came to give you something… and to ask if I might hold onto that book I borrowed a little longer. Only until I can get a copy of my own, of course.”

“No, keep it. For as long as you need Dorian, it’s yours.”

“I… thank you. Now. I promise to bring him around regularly for you to play with,” he teased, forcing his voice into a light, playful tone. “But I really should get back to my room and finish what Solas started. Would you mind setting him down so he can meet Cassandra and say hello to Kattrin?” He very purposefully left Nylan out, though Felix probably wouldn’t, and Cullen obeyed with obvious reluctance. Predictably, as soon as the pup was on the floor, he galloped to Cassandra, wriggling shamelessly for attention as he sniffed her. Knowing his dog was perfectly safe, he turned his full attention back to Cullen. He hadn’t really intended to do this with an audience, but… well. Perhaps it was for the best; he was far less tempted to turn this into a show that Nylan could make fun of later.

So instead of engaging in dramatics, he just stared up into Cullen’s face, drinking in every detail, wishing he dared to reach out and touch him again. Once the man read his missive, he might very well decide to cut Dorian out of his life completely; he needed to memorize everything that he could before that happened. Surprisingly, Cullen was staring back, looking just as lost and confused as he was sure he himself did, and hope once more made itself known. His Amatus missed him, he realized, flushing slightly with pleasure at the notion. That called an answering blush to Cullen’s ears and cheeks, until his Commander cleared his throat and looked away, settling his hand on the hilt of his sword once more.

“I… Dorian, you… I mean…” He stopped, cleared his throat again, then managed to meet Dorian’s eyes. “You said you had something to give me?”

“Ah. Yes.” Anxiety came back to the forefront, crushing hope under its mighty weight. “I have… well. I have this.” Dorian tentatively offered the letter, his eyes now fixed on the floor, where he could see the tips of both his own boots and Cullen’s. “It’s for you. Don’t…” he started as Cullen reached for it, swallowing hard. “Don’t read it until I’ve left, if you please. I, ah… I don’t really want to be here for the immediate reaction.” His Amatus’ hand was now in his vision, and it came to a stop, but Dorian didn’t look up into his face, not wanting to see his expression. Another moment of hesitation, and then there was motion again as Cullen gently took the letter from him.

“I… alright. Thank you. I think. I mean I don’t know what it is, but… thank you.”

“Yes. Quite.”

Being the smart boy he was, Felix sensed the tension and pulled away from Nylan to come trotting back to Dorian. As soon as the pup entered his field of vision, Dorian swooped down and scooped him up, then backed away from Cullen. He still couldn’t look at the man who owned his heart, but he did glance at Kattrin, who seemed confused, and Cassandra, who seemed ready to swoon from the romance of it all – he rolled his eyes at her even as he continued backing up.

“Well then. As lovely as I’m sure all the color makes my face look, I think I shall go to my room and fix it. If you have any reply, Commander, have it sent there, yes? Yes. Well. Good day.”

Without waiting for any sort of response, Dorian turned and fled the tower. He’d been brave enough for one day, after all, and now… now he just wanted to be alone in his room with his dog, where he could wait to see if Cullen would rip his heart the rest of the way out.

~.~.~

_**Formal Declaration of War** _

_**Whereas** you, the Commander of the Inquisition, Cullen Stanton Rutherford, have utterly captured my heart, and_

_**Whereas** you have made the decision that you cannot be torn between myself and Sylaera,_

_I, Dorian Pavus, Altus mage and only son of Halward Pavus and Aquinea Thalrassian, scion of House Pavus and most recently of Minrathous,_

_**Make this formal declaration of war.** _

_**Be it known** that I have every intention of fighting for your heart, my darling Mellitus – my sweet, as that is the nearest translation I can think of that won’t have you growling at me. I should not have left your tower yesterday; I should not have let you go so easily. I have become entirely too accustomed to walking away under the assumption that the person left behind won’t care a bit to see me go. Much to my shame, I followed that pattern with you, and I shall carry that regret in my heart forever, no matter what the outcome of this fight. ___

_**Furthermore** , I wish to announce here and now that I am in love with you. Shocking, I know, as we have never had the luxury of being together without the doom of Sylaera Lavellan and The Iron Bull hanging over us, and we had even that for only two weeks, but there it is. I love you, Cullen Stanton Rutherford, and I should have had the courage to tell you that to your face before agreeing to end our relationship. Another regret, but if you let me, Amatus, my love, I will tell you every day for the rest of our lives. While I am unsure if you could ever love me in return, I hope. I hope with all my heart that I will have the chance._

_**Let it also be known** that Bull and I have officially ended our arrangement as lovers. I have not made love with anyone but you since they left, Amatus, and I will sleep with no one else until this matter is decided. I doubt I will make love to anyone else for the entirety of my life. Should you choose to ignore this declaration, or if I lose the battle in the end, you will still own my heart. You are my sweet, adorable, strong and sexy Commander – no one else could ever come close. I am yours, Amatus, without reserve, so long as you choose me back._

_**In Summation** , I am not giving up on us, Amatus. I will fight to be with you until and unless you tell me that there is no hope. Today I spoke with Sylaera and informed her of my intentions. She was not pleased, but I don’t believe she will actively keep me from seeing you, or retaliate against either of us. The choice is entirely in your hands, Cullen, and I know I will respect your wishes no matter where you decide your heart resides; I believe she will do the same. I love you, and I will fight for you, for us._

_**I choose you** , Cullen Stanton Rutherford, and I hope someday you will choose me back. If you can sincerely tell me that this will never come to pass, however, I will not make it difficult. But if you think that, someday, you might be mine in the way that I am yours, then I will fight to make it happen. I will meet you to play chess, where I will cheat outrageously; I will make sure you eat and sleep so you don’t collapse; I will give you massages to help relax your weary muscles. If you let, me Amatus, I will help you fight your dreams. No matter what, I will find a way to end your lyrium addiction. Someday, we will have puppies._

_I love you._

_Dorian Pavus, Yours_

~.~.~

Cullen’s reply, when it came, was in his usual blocky, unrefined script. It wasn’t quite as steady as usual, however, suggesting that his Commander’s hand had been shaking with emotion. The paper was slightly crumpled, like he’d clutched it too hard before passing it off to Kattrin – who’d thrown herself at him in a tearful, laughing hug once she entered the room. Like his, the letter had been sealed; like Cullen, he allowed Kattrin to read it once he’d devoured the contents several times. As he watched her scan the lines, he couldn’t help the beaming smile of satisfaction that spread across his lips… nor the few tears of relief and hope that leaked from his eyes.

**Dorian Pavus, scion of House Pavus, most recently of SKYHOLD**

**I am quite overwhelmed by your declaration. I suspected you might care a little. I would never have guessed that you could love me. I enjoyed our time together more than I can properly express, more than I would have thought possible. You are different than anyone I have ever known. You were so unexpected, Dorian.**

**I thought I loved Sylaera, but now I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, because you changed EVERYTHING. Defining what I feel for you is hard, and I know how selfish it is of me to want to be able to do thus while still allowing Sylaera her claim on me. I would not do so if I did not know one thing with utter certainty.**

**This war will not last long, Dorian.**

**I miss you. I want to see you. I will send Kattrin tomorrow afternoon with a note so we can decide where and when that might be possible.**

**Cullen Stanton (how did you discover my middle name?) Rutherford, Humbled and Awed by You**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. XD Beginning of the happy end? I hope so!
> 
> In other news, I have deposited a paycheck and am RICH BABY. I could afford ramen for like, a month or two, but some of my funds are called to a higher purpose. I kinda want art for this fic. Kinda a lot. XD If anyone knows or is an artist taking commissions on Tumblr or dA or something, drop me a line here, on Tumblr or on dA! My name on Tumblr is Tahlreth, and my dA name is Tahlruil. Thanks so much for any leads! <3


	20. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Cullen agree that, despite it all, they do want to be together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and commenting!! <3 I love you all for it. <3

**Dorian**

**As promised, a letter. Kattrin tells me you are working with Dagna in the Undercroft this afternoon. Is Felix with you? A puppy down there seems dangerous. For all involved.**

**I read your declaration last night, this morning and during the midday meal you so graciously had delivered. ~~Whenever I’m not reading the words I fear I am dr~~ No. Never mind my empty fears.**

**May I see you tonight? Even just for a game of chess, Dorian. Maker’s breath, I miss you and I saw you only yesterday.**

**Cullen**

~.~.~

_Amatus -_

_I must say it is a pleasure to use that term so openly. Dagna and I are composing a song about the feeling. A working song, I promise you, with no mention of your name – she, Felix and I will be the only ones to hear it. Well, Harritt and Kattrin might know a line or two. Kattrin more than he, as she boxed the smith’s ear so hard I believe he’ll have a nice ringing sound in his ears for days to come._

_Are you sure I can’t have her?_

_(Kattrin, darling, say the word and I’ll steal you no matter what my Amatus says)_

_Of course we can meet tonight. This is terribly syrupy of me to say, but I’d be hard pressed to deny you anything – I’m a weak man, for you didn’t even have to pout at me. Shall I come to your tower, or will you come to me? I do not know which would be better to avoid the wrath of the Inquisitor. Say where, Amatus, and I will be there at our usual time._

_A Barkon has no use for the knowledge Dagna and I pursue, it is true, and it’s hard to keep him focused on our studies. He has far more important things to do… namely peeing on everything he doesn’t like the scent of. My lovely partner in crime thinks it’s hilarious, but Harritt is not so amused. Unfortunately, the Undercroft may indeed not be the best place for a puppy._

_Would you mind looking after him for the afternoon, Amatus? If he becomes a distraction, he would love to accompany Kattrin on an errand or two. If he ends up being an absolute nuisance, simply have her bring him back here instead, and I will think of something else. Please don’t spoil him too badly._

_I miss you too, Cullen._

_Dorian, Lovestruck Mage_

~.~.~

**Dorian**

**We will continue to share her. She would be devastated if she no longer had an excuse to see both of us and pry into our PRIVATE correspondence. Once Corypheus is defeated and the Inquisition disbands, perhaps you might persuade her to work for you.**

**Please stop singing songs about me with Dagna, even if my name is not mentioned. Kattrin refuses to tell me what you rhymed with ‘luck’, but from her giggles I can imagine.**

**Why have you never told me how poorly Harritt treats you? I will speak to him regarding his conduct. No one should be addressing you in such a way.**

**I will meet you in your little library this evening, Dorian. We can decide what to do from there.**

**Thank you for sending Felix. He is a good dog.**

**Cullen**

~.~.~

It was strange, how Dorian missed both Cullen and Felix – at least they were together, but they weren’t with _him_ , and he didn’t much like that. Being with Dagna had helped, as had the silly little song they’d created together. Full of lighthearted nonsense, it had been a wonderful way to vent his giddy, happy anxiety while they worked. He had a feeling that they’d be singing a lot from now on, during the more boring parts of their study; after all, they’d gotten more done while humming and suggesting lyrics to each other than they had before. He supposed one worked faster and better when one was happy. 

Now that it was almost time to meet his Amatus in the library, however, he missed both man and beast which was ridiculous… but he couldn’t deny the soft pang in the vicinity of his heart that told him it was true. Maker, he was hopeless. Instead of heading straight to the meeting point, he’d stopped by his room once he was finished in the Undercroft – he had a bit of time to spare, and even if it was silly, he did want to make a good impression. His Commander would surely appreciate him getting cleaned up and changing into something that wasn’t covered in small singe-marks and didn’t smell of swamp (a few things had gotten a bit out of hand during the day’s experiment).

It was while he was checking his hair for a third time that he heard a soft, sure rap on his door. “Come in, come in!” he called breezily, warmth blossoming in his chest, because that must be Cullen, come here early to surprise him. The prediction was why he’d made the invitation instead of tugging on his gloves and going for the door himself; it was why he didn’t even look away from the mirror, and why he was surprised enough to yelp when a crisp, polished, and very female voice floated to his ears.

“Darling, you really should answer the door instead of forcing your guests to open it themselves. Very poorly done of you.” Shocked, the man turned away from the mirror, eyes wide as they landed on Vivienne. Why on earth was she in his room? She never came to his room, not ever. They spoke, certainly, and occasionally spent time together with a tailor, but they weren’t exactly… friends. Dorian wasn’t sure she _had_ friends.

Which was unfortunate, he realized as he studied her, because just then she looked like she might need one. Perhaps most people wouldn’t see it, not when she was still so fabulously put together; the shaved head worked for her, emphasizing those strong cheekbones, and her clothes were as irritatingly stylish and flattering as usual. The woman almost made him interested in Orlesian fashion, and it simply wasn’t fair of her. If it weren’t for all the little things that were so subtly _wrong_ , he would have told her just that. Little things like the fact that she wore only one of her usual bracelets and had left her left wrist astonishingly bare, or the way the fabric of her belt was twisted, or the small specks of something on her right shoulder. Though she wore her boots, her step had lacked the strong ‘clack’ that usually announced her presence, and there were lines of strain around both her eyes and her mouth. All things that most people would overlook or write off as Vivienne being ‘distracted’, but not him. The woman was as adept with her masks as he was with his own, and to see such cracks was disturbing, and meant there was a _lot_ more that was wrong beneath the surface.

“Vivienne! What a charming surprise! I hadn’t expected it was you, or of course I would have opened the door – the servants all knock, as they’re frightened silly of me, you see. I thought maybe one of them was bringing me more firewood.” Crossing to her, he grasped her right hand in his and gave it a warm squeeze before he lifted it and brushed a kiss over her knuckles, which drew a small smile from her. “Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined my visitor was a lady of such distinction. Please, you _must_ sit.” He led her to his favorite chair, the obscenely expensive, large and comfortable one he’d bought and then piled with cushions. She hesitated, then sank down with her usual grace. Sylaera should take notes from the mage, because with her seated there, it became a throne; when the elf took to her throne, it became just a chair. “I have little to offer in the way of hospitality, but would you like a glass of wine? I’ve been buying my own, to circumvent the horrible little man who orders vintages only two steps up from piss.”

“No, my dear, though I do thank you for the offer. Where did you get this chair? I absolutely adore it, even if the pattern is rather garish. It suits you, I suppose, but I’d prefer something with quiet elegance. I’m sure they would be able to accommodate me in that.”

“I’m sure they would have no problem finding you something just as comfortable in the shade of boring.” He agreed with a smile as he took a seat as well. “I’ll send you all the contact details for the shop. Tell them I sent you there and you may be able to get a bit of a discount.” Vivienne gave a regal nod, then looked down at the arm of the chair, where she was plucking almost listlessly at the fabric – another bad sign. The woman did _not_ fidget. She might shift her weight to emphasize a point or put someone else of balance, but she never moved with such restless energy. His voice was considerably gentler when he voiced his next query. “Is there something wrong, dear woman? You’re looking a bit unkempt, for you, and you don’t usually come to me to chat. Is there something you need?”

“Unkempt? I hadn’t noticed. Do help me put myself together before I leave here, will you? I dread to think anyone else should make note of my state and use it against me.” The woman sighed and gave a slight shake of her head, then brought her eyes to Dorian’s… and there was such sadness written in them. She was letting him in, letting him see, and the mage had the sudden urge to wrap her up in a nice hug, then bundle her off to her own room where he could fuss over her. If he hadn’t had a meeting planned with Cullen, he might have done just that, but since he did, he let her continue. “I’ve come, my dear, because a number of rumors have reached my ears, and I wish to have them verified by you.”

“Rumors?”

“Do not feign ignorance, darling. You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.”

“I’m touched.” The woman arched one carefully sculpted brow, and Dorian gave a sigh of resignation. “Fine. Yes, alright? I was sleeping with Cullen while Bull and the Inquisitor were away. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“That is one rumor laid to rest, yes. There are others, however, some of which are rather… delicate in nature.” He waved a hand for her to go on, and she gave him one of those regal nods of her before continuing. “I have heard that you send him meals to make sure that he eats, and that, of late, he is rarely to be found working through or beyond the evening meal. I have heard you both take regular walks along the wall at night and even stay to watch the sunset.” So far, Dorian had nodded to each item to indicate it was true, feeling a bit embarrassed – really, did _everyone_ know every detail of their relationship? “I have heard you recently obtained a Mabari. Really Dorian? A _dog_?”

“Oh hush. He’s adorable and he loves me.”

“Your dog or your Commander?”

“That’s…” He floundered a moment, then sighed and ran one hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, Vivienne.”

“I know, my dear. Now tell me… do _you_ love _him_?”

“Yes.”

“No hesitation – good. Love is not for the faint of heart. My Bastien and I-” Her voice wavered, but she caught herself immediately, looking away and clearing her throat before continuing. “We faced great opposition when we found each other, opposition that came from all corners; enemies and friends alike challenged our relationship again and again. It will be the same for you and the Commander – like Bastien and myself, you come from very different worlds. A Tevinter Altus and a former Templar who was Knight-Commander in Kirkwall… it will be a scandal, my dear. I am sure you are at least somewhat aware of that, but I wanted to make sure of it, and to make sure you are prepared to confront it should you choose to continue along this path.”

“I do choose it. I welcome the scandal of it all. I adore scandal, you see. I’m a pariah, my darling woman – you don’t get that way by living quietly.” He watched her give another of those small smiles, this one underlain by a deep, deep sadness, and he didn’t manage to stifle the urge to reach out to her. He wrapped his hand around hers and gave it a squeeze, smiling at her expression of astonishment. “What’s wrong, Vivienne? Is it… did something happen to Bastien?”

“Life, darling. Life happened to him. He was no longer a young man, and this was… inevitable. I had hoped to hold it off, with the Inquisitor’s help, but it was not meant to be. At least I was there at the end.”

“Oh Vivienne. I am so very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you my dear.” The smile she gave him was fragile, and she turned her hand over to give his a tight squeeze. He wondered if anyone else had given their condolences, if anyone else knew. Her mask was so flawless, so perfect and impenetrable. Where his was meant to charm, hers was meant to intimidate; for the first time, he wondered about the woman beneath it, and how lonely she must be. “But I did not come here to weep and wail about the nature of the world. I came to see if you were in love, and to make sure you would fight for it if you were. Love is not the soft, easy thing the bards sing of. It is more than flowers and dreams, and it isn’t always enough. It requires work and fortitude in order to endure, and not everyone is meant for such things. You…” she watched him with an appraising eye, and he lifted a brow in query. “You will do just fine, I think. You are a fighter, after all.” Giving his hand a last squeeze, she carefully withdrew her hand from his, willing to accept his comfort no longer. “The way you let the Inquisitor break your nose yesterday notwithstanding, of course.”

“I did not _let_ her.” Dorian corrected, annoyance in his voice. “But I couldn’t very well set her on fire, could I? I’ve no way of knowing if the Mark could be salvaged from her corpse to close Rifts, after all.”

Instead of the reprimand he was expecting, Vivienne gave a soft sound that, in someone less dignified, could have been called a snort. “Indeed. It is unfortunate that the only way to discover such a thing endangers the whole of the world. Asking Solas to investigate it would be far too obvious.” Dorian lifted both his brows in surprise, rather shocked by the turn of events – there had always been a sort of grudging respect between Vivienne and the Inquisitor, but… something had clearly changed. 

“That’s very true, and if she found out we asked she’d probably decide we were trying to plot her assassination. Now.” Giving the woman his most charming smile, he stood. “I hate to cut this short, my dear woman, but I have an appointment with my love that I absolutely must keep. Let’s put you together.” She nodded and stood as well, allowing him to brush off the bits of dust and tiny bits of rubble from her shoulders – she must have passed through an area Skyhold that was under construction – and fixed her own belt after he mentioned it. When he pointed out that she had only one bracelet, the fond, nostalgic smile she sent it convinced him that she knew and there was a reason for it.

“All better then. We can’t have anyone penetrating our armor without our permission, can we? Very dangerous, that.” “I know.” Vivienne agreed, making him blush when she ran her fingers over the tattoo he’d completely forgotten was uncovered, looking at it with admiration in her gaze. “So do not forget your gloves before you leave, darling. Mother Giselle is an estimable woman, but she doesn’t like you much – she would harp on this for days.”

“Old hen.” Dorian grumbled, snatching up his gloves and tugging them on. “The world is falling apart – surely she has far more important things to deal with than me. Ah well. Although we must part for now, I do hope to see you again soon. I have a tailor coming to visit me in a few days – would you like to join me? You know I value your input, even if your sense of color is a bit dull and you lack a true flair for the dramatic.”

“I would love to, my dear boy.” She agreed, taking hold of the arm he offered as they walked to his door. “Perhaps we can finally get you into something that doesn’t make you look like a surly peacock.”

“Ha!”

When they reached the door, Vivienne hesitated, preventing him from opening it. “I realize that I don’t know what really went on between you and the Inquisitor, but I imagine you discussed Cullen. Whatever she told you Dorian, whatever she promised… proceed with caution. She will betray you, my darling. Sylaera Lavellan is not one to be trusted with personal matters. Make sure you don’t forget that.”

Leaning up, she brushed a kiss over her cheek and then opened the door herself. Before he could recover his wits, she was gone, the stern ‘clack’ back in her stride, chin tipped at a proud, haughty angle. A bitch she was indeed… but it wasn’t all she was, and he would do well to remember that going forward.

As he walked to his library, Dorian turned Vivienne’s words over in his mind, over and over. She was right, of course, and he hadn’t even really needed the warning. Not with the feel of his nose crunching under Sylaera’s fist so fresh in his memory. Still, he wondered if he hadn’t better start planning out contingencies and solidify some alliances. Vivienne was, he suspected, firmly in his corner, as were Cassandra and Kattrin. Dagna would support him as well, but he wasn’t sure about Bull – not when the Inquisitor was his ‘boss’. His open aid would likely be impossible to secure, and who knew what Solas thought about the whole thing. Still, perhaps he should casually speak with the other members of the inner circle and the advisors to try and feel out what they thought. If Cullen wanted this, wanted a future with him, they might need all the help they could get to win it.

“… alright, Felix, let us practice one more time, just to be sure.” Cullen’s voice broke his reverie, and he realized the blond was already in the library and waiting for him. Plotting with his Mabari in the bargain, it seemed, which was absolutely adorable. Pausing in place just outside the library, where his Amatus and his pup couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see them, he listened, arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face. “When I say ‘you look wonderful’… good! And then ‘I missed you, Dorian’… that’s perfect, Felix. And finally, ‘I’m sorry’.” There was a brief pause, one where the mage was definitely not fighting back tears, because that would be silly, and then Cullen’s warm voice came again. “Good boy. You are the smartest Mabari in the whole world. Yes you are.”

Maker, it was adorable, listening to the way his Amatus spoke to his dog. Felix gave an eager ‘yip’ in response, and Dorian could just imagine the proud way he’d be prancing about. He waited a bit longer, listening to the enthusiastic praise and happy barks, giving the man a chance to set up… whatever surprise he’d created. It wouldn’t be fair, otherwise, and he desperately wanted to see what it was besides. After he thought an appropriate amount of time had passed, he pulled himself away from the wall and ambled into the library – the smile on his face was wide, foolish and full of affection, but he didn’t even try to suppress it.

Felix noticed him first, as expected; he was, after all, Barkon for a reason. He gave a joyful sort of howl, then charged at Dorian, galloping quickly with his tongue lolling and his ears flapping. At the same time, Cullen turned to face him, and the mage got to watch his eyes light up, pure pleasure and happiness on his face when he caught sight of Dorian. It was enough to make him blush, so when he scooped the puppy up into his arms, he hid his face in the Mabari’s side, trying to calm himself. It might have worked, if his Amatus didn’t come to him nearly as swiftly as Felix had, wrapping strong arms around the both of them.

After a moment, one of the blonde’s hands lifted and tucked Dorian’s head under his chin; without hesitating, the mage nuzzled the man’s neck, curling up against his chest while cuddling the puppy to his own.

“It’s nice to see you too.” Dorian murmured lightly, eyes closed and that ridiculous smile plastered on his face. “Sorry I’m late – I got a bit messy today and had to go change.”

“Messy?”

“Dagna is very enthusiastic, you see. Despite our combined genius, that enthusiasm often leads to things getting just a little out of control.”

“I see.” Maker, he didn’t want this to end. Two afternoons ago he’d been convinced he would never be able to be with Cullen again, and now here the warrior was, holding him close. Holding him like he never wanted to let go. “I hope you’re being careful.”

“Careful as can be, Amatus. We’re not studying anything too dangerous, so nothing should get too out of hand. I can usually get her to pull back a little if I tie it to our safety.”

“Mm.” Both of them were silent, until Felix let out a soft little whine a few moments later. He licked first Dorian’s chin and then Cullen’s before he began to squirm; he wanted down. The two men reluctantly parted to give the pup what he wanted. They watched as he circled the pair of them twice, then walked between them and flopped over onto Dorian’s feet with a contented sigh. He pawed playfully at Cullen’s boots a moment, both men laughing softly, before he stilled and closed his eyes, heaving another of those adorable sighs. “I think he likes that we’re together.”

“I don’t blame him, really. _I_ like that we’re together.”

“Me too.” Cullen’s voice was rough with emotion, and one calloused hand came up to cup Dorian’s cheek. “I…” Stopping himself, he cleared his throat, then gave the mage a smile that was adorably shy. “You look wonderful.” Taking his cue, the Mabari on his boots quickly rolled over and pushed himself to his feet, trotting over to ‘his’ corner and nosing about the blankets. If Dorian didn’t know any better, it would have looked almost completely natural.

“I always do. Point of pride, my darling Amatus. You’re looking rather impressive yourself. I always like it when you’re out of your armor.” Cullen blushed lightly when the mage let his eyes roam all the way down the man’s body, then slowly drag all the way back up. “Green is a good color on you. You should wear it more often.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Felix gave a soft snort which seemed to be _Cullen’s_ cue, and the man’s expression lost its uncertainty as he pressed onward. “I know it’s been only two days since we… since I… well. You know. And I know we saw each other yesterday, but it wasn’t quite the same, and perhaps it was foolish of me, but… I missed us. I missed you, Dorian.” Though he wanted to flick his eyes to Felix, who was returning to them with paws that ‘clicked’ lightly on the stone floor, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Cullen. Not with intensity and sincerity shining in their depths. Not when he was almost completely sure that he saw a bit of love there as well. “I should have talked to you before making my decision. I was… afraid, I suppose. I’m sorry.”

About to answer, Dorian felt Felix’s front paws hit his leg, and he looked down involuntarily… and saw that the dog had a small box clamped delicately in his jaws. Though immediately curious, Dorian flicked his eyes to Cullen in a silent question. The blond only gave an encouraging nod, a small smile hovering on his lips. Felix, impatient, gave a little whine around the present and used one paw to whap Dorian’s leg; taking the hint, he finally reached down and accept the offering. The Mabari delicately let it go and dropped back to all fours, looking so damned proud of himself that Dorian had to give him a quick scratch behind his ears, even as Cullen murmured praises to him. Once the pup had been properly thanked, all human attention focused back on the box.

“Training my dog to do your dirty work, Amatus?” Dorian teased lightly, trying to hide the way his fingers trembled as he worked on opening the gift. “I’m not sure I approve, frankly. Not unless you show my how you did it so I can… do… do the same… _Amatus_. It’s… it’s beautiful.” Nestled carefully in the box was a ring – a wonderful, bold, perfect ring that he fell in love with immediately. Where the heavy band was done in silverite, the lion head that burst forward from it, jaws gaping in a silent roar, was golden as the sun. His eyes were tiny emerald chips that glimmered in the light, and the animal had been carved realistically enough that he half-expected the beast to start shaking his glorious mane. It was… well. _Perfect_ , because it reminded him so much of Cullen that it would be like carrying a piece of his lover with him in more ways than one. It was also a bit disconcerting, because it had clearly cost a small fortune and there was simply no way it could have been completed within the space of a day. “Cullen, Amatus, it’s… it’s too much…”

“Yet I note you aren’t trying to give it back.” The blonde teased, slipping his arms around Dorian’s waist as the mage scoffed.

“Never. It’s perfectly beautiful and you gave it to me. It’s mine now, to cherish until the end of my days. But how… when… oh Amatus. Whatever am I going to do with you?” There was no way to keep his fingers from shaking as he pulled the ring out of the box, examining it for a minute to gauge which finger might be the closest fit. After first leaning down slightly to give Felix back the box – the pup took it happily and galloped back to his nest of blankets and hid the thing once more – he slid it onto his left index finger… and it fit perfectly. Snug enough that it wouldn’t fall off during a fight, but not so tight as to irritate him. Maker, it was perfect, and he was absolutely not going to cry.

The tear that Cullen kissed away was a fluke, escaping his right eye before he could choke his emotions down. His Amatus then brought their foreheads together, and Dorian immediately rubbed his nose against the other man’s in an affectionate gesture. “I love it, Amatus. I love _you_.”

“I… Maker’s breath, Dorian. It rings so false, me saying that I love you as well when we both know that Sylaera and I… but I do.” Cullen’s tone of voice went from lost to fierce, making the mage smile despite his trembling lips. “I love you. And if things were just a little less Blighted complicated, I’d sweep you up into my arms, carry you to my dismal little bedroom in my tower to make love to you and then never let you leave.” Dorian’s heart, which had been pounding since the ‘I love you’, was now hammering frantically against his ribs, and he wrapped his arms tightly around the blond. He grabbed fistfuls of the man’s shirt and hid his face in the blonde’s neck, emotions surging through him unchecked. Cullen’s arms tightened around him in return, the two men clinging to each other almost desperately.

“I wish love could be enough.” Dorian heard himself whisper, Vivienne’s voice ringing in his ears.

“As do I, Dorian. As do I. She… will not let me go easily. I fear what will happen to you if I provoke her.” Tipping his head back, the mage looked up into the man’s eyes, worry written clearly in them. “I could not bear it if she harmed you further.” One large hand left his back and came to cup his cheek instead, and Cullen’s thumb brushed over his nose meaningfully.

“Ah. You found out then.”

“Every visiting dignitary in the grand hall was whispering about how you left the Inquisitor’s room with your nose bleeding. Of course I found out. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Things are already complicated. I didn’t wish to add to that. Besides, she didn’t punch me because of you – she punched me because I went into her room.”

“Ah. Yes. She can get a bit… territorial. Still. Maker I wanted to kill someone when I saw the bruises. If you’d told me it was her right away-”

“Which is why I didn’t.”

“Hmph.” Cullen didn’t sound quite pleased with his reasoning, but didn’t press the issue any further. “Dorian, do you… do you truly think you want this? Me, I mean? There are things that…” He stopped abruptly and pressed his lips together into a thin line, looking away. He looked so pained, so sad and haunted, that Dorian hastened to reassure him.

“I want you very much, Cullen. I want a future with you, or at least the chance of one.”

“Then there are things we need to discuss. Things that I have to tell you before… before we commit completely to this path. I do not wish for you to come into this entirely blind. You deserve the chance to walk away once you realize the kind of man I really am. You-mmph…”

Silencing someone with a kiss was such a delicious way to get the job done, and Dorian understood why Cullen took every opportunity to do so with him. It was their first in two days, but it felt like two _years_. It was like coming home, and Dorian ended up lingering far longer than he’d meant to. After long moments, the blond deepened the kiss, hesitantly sliding his tongue forward; the mage opened to him instantly, and both men moaned as they tasted each other and pressed closer together.

Before things could get too amorous, Dorian pulled away, leaning up to rest his forehead against Cullen’s as they both panted lightly for breath. “You are a good man.” He told his Commander fiercely once he could manage it. “Nothing you say will change that, and I can’t imagine you telling me anything that will drive me away. But we’ll have these discussions, Amatus.” He added quickly, feeling Cullen tense and sensing the man’s urge to argue. “There are things you should know as well. So we’ll have long discussions when we can get them over the next few days, yes? Long, rambling conversations where we bare our souls and weep like children, then comfort each other. And then, once we’ve revealed all the darkest, dirtiest parts of ourselves, we’ll figure out what to do about Sylaera. But we are _not_ starting tonight. Tonight I want to play chess, eat something, and bask in your presence. I will give you a massage as a prize for winning, and if you are able, I want you to sleep in my bed and hold me. Tomorrow… tomorrow we’ll begin the soul delving. For now… well. I missed you terribly, and I just want to spend time with you.”

“That… that sounds perfect, Dorian. Should we have food sent to your room and play chess there while we eat, or would you rather stay here and send for something later?”

“Hmmm… let us eat while we play. Cheating will be easier when you’re distracted by food.”

“No it won’t. You’re a terrible cheater.

“That hurts my feelings, Amatus.”

“I love hearing you call me that, now that I know what it means.”

“Then I shall say it every chance I get, Amatus. Now, let us be off to the kitchens – we don’t need to have anything _sent_ to us; we can just go get a few things. Gustave almost likes me now, you know, and he adores Felix.”

“That’s because Felix is a marvel.”

“He _is_ the Barkon, after all. One doesn’t receive the title for being _ordinary_.”

Knowing they were talking about him, Felix left his ‘bed’ and galloped over to them, huffing and snorting the whole way. Laughing, Cullen picked him up in one arm, then secured the other around Dorian’s waist before turning them all toward the door.

“Of course not, sweetheart. Shall we?” As they left the library and walked down the hall, Dorian found himself believing that this could be the start for them – the real start. Yes, they still had to deal with a mad Inquisitor, and yes Cullen still seemed sure that whatever haunted him so would run Dorian off, but… they loved each other. They loved each other and Felix, who also loved both of them, and Cullen had given him the most beautiful ring in all of existence, and things were going to be fine.

Love wasn’t ever enough, but Dorian knew, with absolute certainty, that it needed to be there in order to build anything real. They had it, and the rest… the rest they would work together, fight together, to build.

They were going to build the realest fucking thing he’d ever had in his life, and Dorian couldn’t wait to get started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today through a chain of posts on Tumblr, I found the best, most perfect thing ever in the whole of the universe. [Dorian Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Go1rbbB7_k). I died several times during the course of the video, and it's splendid. If you are a Dorian fan, do go watch it if you haven't seen it already. It's everything, and there's even a part two that is equally fabulous. XD


	21. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Cullen begin to delve into their pasts so they can build a future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolute trash for taking so long to update. I had a really hard time with this chapter... I'm still fairly iffy on chunks of it.
> 
> The lovely and wonderful calcitron absolutely saved my bacon - without her reading over and critiquing the first part of the chapter I might never have been able to finish. I cannot thank her enough! Any mistakes are mine, as her advice is great and she catches mistakes that I gloss right over. XD She didn't see much past the first 2k words, so everything past that point is my fault - I wanted to get this up since it's been forever since I posted in this story.
> 
> Comments are everything I need in my life, so if you have anything at all to say about the chapter or the story in general, please leave one or drop me a line on Tumblr! <3

“Is this really the proper place for this, Amatus? It isn’t exactly private, and it’s _cold_.” Even as he complained, Dorian knew they wouldn’t be moving – this spot on top of the tower was one of Cullen’s safe places, where he liked to go when he was having a hard time. This was perhaps the best place in all of Skyhold to have their more serious discussions.

“Dorian, you’ve lived here for months. Why is it that you have yet to acquire suitable clothing for the weather? Or even just a cloak?”

“Because unlike some, I have the good sense to stay indoors a great deal of the time. I’ve no need for a cloak.”

Sighing heavily, a note of fondness in the ‘irritated’ noise, Cullen shrugged off his own terrible, furry cloak and wrapped it tightly around Dorian instead. “Perhaps I should take back the ring I gave you and exchange it for a more appropriate wardrobe. It would serve you better.” And oh, it wasn’t fair how the man standing behind him pressed his mouth against Dorian’s ear, or how his arms wrapped around the mage as well – it was rather distracting, really… though not quite enough that he ignored the threat to his favorite piece of jewelry.

“Don’t even think of it. The ring is mine, you ridiculous man. If you touch it, I shan’t be held responsible for my actions.” He couldn’t see Cullen’s face, but Dorian was sure the blond was grinning – possibly even smirking – at his rather feeble threat. Letting out a ‘hmmm’ of consideration that made chapped lips buzz against the shell of Dorian’s ear, the warrior slid one hand down his left arm. In direct defiance of Dorian’s words, he curled his strong fingers around the heavy ring, tracing the lines of the lion before toying with the piece in a gesture that was part affectionate and part possessive. As he did, skin brushed against skin, and Dorian felt a shiver race up his spine.

“So even like this, I can’t touch it, despite being the one who gifted it to you?”

Cullen’s fingers were those of a man who worked with his hands; calloused and rough, they dragged over Dorian’s skin in an expert touch. As they stroked up and down Dorian’s smoother skin, it brought to mind a much more obscene act, and he was taken back to that beautifully intense encounter in his library. He could practically feel the ghost of the man’s hand on him, and he found it _very_ distracting. “I… well… I mean… touching in this manner is… alright, I suppose.” Dorian finally managed to stammer, feeling a blush heat his cheeks. “So long as you don’t attempt to take it from me.”

“Never.” Cullen breathed, and as the burst of hot air over his ear raised gooseflesh on his arm, Dorian came to a sudden realization. If they didn’t start talking, and soon, this was going to devolve quickly into something that would be delicious, stimulating enough to drive away the cold, and completely counterproductive to what they’d aimed to achieve there that night. It was so unfair, always being the one to stay calm and put the mission first, but he was strong enough to bear it, thankfully. He leaned back more fully against his Commander, snuggling against his warm, well-muscled chest.

“Felix will be very disappointed if we come back and the only thing we’ve accomplished is freezing our extremities off while being naughty. I promised him we were having a very important conversation and that’s why he had to stay behind. Even if he adores Kattrin, he’d rather be with us. So talk to me, Amatus.” By the last sentence, his voice had gentled considerably, and he was staying as relaxed as he could in Cullen’s arms to offset the other man’s reaction to his words. The man’s hold on him had grown tighter and tighter as he spoke, and tension now filled his large frame. “Unless you want me to start?”

“I… no. Yes? I don’t… I don’t know where to start, Dorian, or how to do this.” His Commander whispered, distress lacing his voice. “I want you to know _everything_ so you can make the right choice, but… I’ve done so much harm. I’ve _ignored_ so much hurt, so much suffering. I can hardly put it into words – they choke me even as they form. It all plays back in my head, and I see their faces, hear the screams. I can’t-” He could feel Cullen’s pain, and it was absolutely gutting him; when the blond keened softly and hid his face in the crook of Dorian’s neck, he closed his own eyes tightly against the hurt. Lifting one hand, he started to sift his fingers through those wavy locks, attempting to soothe his Amatus.

Was this really necessary, part of him wondered, hating the way he could feel his love tremble against his back. Romance wasn’t a subject he was very knowledgeable in, but he was fairly certain that most couples that came together out of something other than attempts at breeding the perfect Magister didn’t do… well, this. They learned each other gradually, revealing secrets when it felt right, slowly peeling back the layers as love and trust grew. It didn’t all have to happen overnight, not when this was all so very clearly traumatizing to the other man. So did they really need to do it this way, when Dorian was certain that there was almost nothing Cullen could tell him that would run him off?

At the same time, he knew the blond was afraid. His Amatus was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to look beyond the sins of his past and would leave. He was perhaps even more afraid that Dorian would hear it all and decide to stay. Only time and the mage’s continued presence would ease either fear, but with the world falling apart and the Inquisitor breathing down their necks, starting this way was perhaps not the worst idea ever concocted.

Not when someone or something had decided Sylaera Lavellan was worthy of bearing the Anchor; that was definitely the worst cock-up in the history of modern Thedas.

“I’m going to start.” Dorian murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to Cullen’s hair, forcing his thoughts away from the Maker’s lapse in judgement. “Truth for a truth, yes? I believe that seems fair. But Amatus, we aren’t going to discuss it all tonight, and we don’t need to discuss it all in details that will upset us both unduly. We are going to have years and years together, so long as the world doesn’t end; we need to keep a bit of mystery, don’t you think?” He felt the blonde’s lips twitch into a tiny smile against his skin, and it brought an answering one to his own mouth. “It’s only the start for us. I’m not going anywhere, Amatus, because while the past creates us, it doesn’t need to define us indefinitely.”

“But Dorian, you don’t know… you don’t know.”

“No. But I _do_ know that you’re a man trying to atone for his wrongdoing. That makes you a better man than many. If you continue to argue with me on that point, I shall punish you accordingly.” He warned when he felt Cullen’s mouth open to protest. “I love you, you ridiculous man, and I won’t let anyone speak poorly of your current character – not even you. Especially not you. I’m not exactly proud of who I used to be either, you know. It’s entirely possible that you’ll be the one to walk away at the end of these little chats.”

“ _Never_.” Cullen vowed again, the intensity in his voice rather astonishing. It warmed Dorian down to the very core of him, and gave him the strength to start the unpleasantness – or at least to begin sorting through memories to see where to begin. It took a few more silent moments, ones where his Commander held onto him like a lifeline, before he finally found a route that might serve them both well.

“Do you know that before I came here I never even thought about the fact that my family kept slaves? None of them belong to me personally – by the time I was old enough to make such a purchase in my own name, I had far more important things to spend my gold on. More important.” He repeated in a scoff, feeling a tendril of self-loathing uncurl in his chest. “I valued wine and fabric more highly than _lives_. Maker, to me they were less valuable than our book collection. They might as well have been part of the scenery. Most flitted through my consciousness the same way a nightstand or end table would – when they were of use, I saw them. When I didn’t need them, they didn’t exist to me. They were only slaves, after all, there to clean up and do any unpleasantness I didn’t want to do myself. I’ve had them _whipped_ , you know.” He admitted in a hoarse whisper, feeling safe there in the dark with only his Amatus and the stars to hear his shame. Despite his earlier warning to Cullen, he doubted anyone was lurking on the floor below to learn their secrets. While he hadn’t dared tell the Inquisitor the entire truth about the slaves of his household, he wouldn’t hide it from his love – not when he knew the other man would give him nothing but the unvarnished truth in return.

The arms around him were holding him even tighter now, and Cullen felt so stiff and brittle at his back that the mage half-worried one wrong move would shatter the warrior completely, so he held himself still. “Yes, whipped. Always for gross violations, of course – one had the nerve to shift some of my notes while cleaning my desk, and it took me a few extra moments to find them when I needed them. Another dared leave a few wrinkles in the outfit I was to wear to a party. Such affronts to my vanity couldn’t be allowed, of course, and their behavior needed to be corrected. Maker, they weren’t even people to me. I don’t know of any in my household that were used for blood magic, but I do know that when the few faces I did recognize disappeared, I almost never asked questions. I didn’t care. Only one managed to make any sort of lasting impression. Drina was such a dear… she’d sold herself into slavery to pay off debt accumulated by her son. She practically raised me while my father was busy ignoring my mother and my mother was doing her best to be both physically present and emotionally distant. Drina missed her grandchildren, I think. After my magic manifested, it was decided that I didn’t need any more raising. I was just about to turn seven – practically an adult, wouldn’t you say?” He’d meant to keep his confession light and easy, but the attempts at humor were too biting, and the bitterness in his voice was growing thicker and thicker.

That tendril of self-hatred had grown into a vine that wrapped around his heart and _squeezed_ , and he thought perhaps it was time to stop. It was time to let Cullen speak, and indeed the blond seemed to be working up to saying something, but his own words just wouldn’t stop.

“Do you know that when Lavellan asked, I told her that slavery wasn’t much worse than your southern alienages or the endless poverty in your cities? At least slaves are fed and given something useful to do, I told her. At least a poor man could sell himself to try and feed his family. What can they do here? Hope and go hungry and work until they die? And I _believed_ it. Part of me still does – disgusting, isn’t it? Part of me thinks that those poor souls are better off with a master than trying to eke out a living for themselves in the streets. But then I remember all the things I pretended I didn’t see, all the slaves - _people_ , by the Maker – who mean absolutely nothing to the people in charge. They’re sacrificed for power or in the name of research… I wonder if we’ll ever truly know how many slaves Corypheus and his fellows slaughtered before the Veil gave way before them. They’re living, breathing, thinking beings who are allowed nothing of their own that can’t be taken away – even the whims of a nobly born child can deprive a slave food or water for days. _And part of me still thinks it’s better_. And I wonder if I’m truly any different than all the Magisters I rail against. I wonder how I can hope to return and push for reforms when, deep down, I’m as bad as they. Were they like me once? Did they just get tired of fighting the inevitable, and will I do the same?”

Silence.

Pure and utter silence, where even the incessant wind that whistled over the wall seemed to cease blowing. The lack of sound persisted long enough that Dorian began to actively worry that his honesty had gone too far and now his Amatus would abandon him. As fear gripped him, he laid his arms over Cullen’s and grabbed hold of the other man, trying to delay the moment when he would pull back. Why oh why had he agreed to do this?

“You are _not_ like them, Dorian Pavus.” The whisper was low and urgent, and the arms around him turned to iron bands, practically crushing him against Cullen’s chest. “And you never will be. You’re so passionate… these past few weeks, listening to you… Tevinter isn’t even my homeland and you’ve had me so swept away that I wanted to go there with you, fight with you to change it. You’ll get tired and you’ll want to give up… but you won’t. Not when you care so blessed much. You see what’s wrong, sweetheart, and instead of pretending it isn’t there, you address it. That’s… it’s so much more than most people will ever do. I cannot imagine you ever seeing the ills of Tevinter society and simply shrugging and going about your business; I can’t imagine you not working to change things for the better. Now that you see the flaws in slavery, I would be willing to bet that you already have a plan in your head for reforms, do you not?”

“I… maybe.” Dorian answered in a too-casual voice and a shrug that strove for nonchalance. “It will be decades, perhaps even longer, before Tevinter can survive a complete abolishment of the practice. But there are steps we could take, ways to afford them what dignity and respect we can. I cannot free every slave, but if I can just convince even one Magister that they are indeed people who love and laugh and hurt just like those in the Senate… well. I would happily accept even that small victory.”

Cullen’s arms abruptly disappeared, leaving his back cold and filling his heart with concern. He turned in time to see the blond stalk across the platform to the other side of the observation deck, tugging at his hair in apparent frustration. “Amatus?” The call was hesitant, with Dorian no longer sure of his welcome. Would Cullen change his mind and go back to Sylaera? The Inquisitor was insane, but she had some measure of regard for life. To her, no one would ever be relegated to the status of breathing furniture.

“I do not deserve that title.” Cullen informed him harshly. His hands slammed down onto the stone in front of him to emphasize his words, and the tall man was bent under the weight of the coming confession. “You have been in the south for such a short time, and already your eyes have been opened. Beyond that, you already have plans to address the wrongdoing of your countrymen. I have been part of the system for _years_ and I can’t… You should not call me that. I do not deserve it.”

Dorian smoothed the worry off his face, keeping his step light as he crossed the distance to Cullen. Once he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around Cullen’s waist and gave a light squeeze. “I happen to disagree. Happily, I get to make the determination of who to bestow the title on. I choose you, Cullen Rutherford. You shall have to get used to the fact, I’m afraid.” As the blond straightened and put his hands over Dorian’s, the mage settled his head on the man’s right shoulder. His eyes closed as he snuggled close, trying to impart the same comfort Cullen had given him only moments before. “From what I’ve seen in my time here, Amatus, there is no one who could have changed the trajectory of the Circles here, no matter how many years they were part of them.”

“That isn’t the _point_ Dorian.” Cullen sounded defeated and frustrated at the same time, and all Dorian could do was tighten his arms around his waist.

“Tell me what the point is then. I want to understand.”

“I don’t… the words never want to come.”

“I have no pressing engagements for the rest of the evening. Take your time.” He felt more than heard Cullen take a deep breath, then another. Dorian turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to Cullen’s jaw, then dropped his head again, staying silent as he waited. It seemed to take forever before the man spoke again, but Dorian didn’t try to hurry him along. He could afford to be patient, after all… and eventually, that was rewarded. Cullen’s words were halting, but they came.

“You said… you said you saw the slaves as… as part of the scenery, or like furniture. I can understand that.” Part of Dorian was tempted to speak up, but he bit his tongue and let his Commander set the pace. “Being a Templar… it was all I ever… You have to understand, Dorian. It was the only way I was going to leave the farm. That life was never for me. So when the Templars I pestered offered to teach me, then spoke to my father about joining the order… it was every dream I had come true. It was my chance, and I believed. I believed in their cause so much, was as devout as I could manage. Doubts plague everyone, but I… well. I staved them off as best I could. When I finished the vigil and became a Templar, I was so proud. I knew I could do it – I would be the best Templar. I would guard the mages from themselves, and protect the innocent from abominations. I dreamed of rising in the ranks, of eventually becoming Knight-Commander. I was so young, and I was such a fool.”

“Young people always are, Amatus.” Dorian murmured, delivering another brush of lips to Cullen’s stubble-covered jaw, then pressed his face into the crook of his neck.

“Yes. I suppose that’s true.” Cullen’s shoulders hunched, but then he drew himself up straight, squaring his shoulders as if he were facing his execution. “There was a mage, and I… I admired her very much. She was only an apprentice, and I was so new to my station. Her name was Solona, and sometimes we talked. Not often,” he hurried to amend, as if there were a Knight-Commander waiting in the shadows to scold him for fraternization. “Just enough to know her name and… well. I fancied myself in love with her, for a time. She was graceful and intelligent, and so talented. Not like you, but I knew that if she survived her Harrowing, she would go far in the Circle. I thought…” Cullen’s ears blushed, and then it spread down his neck as he cleared his throat. “I thought if she became First Enchanter and I was Knight-Commander, we could…”

He trailed off, but Dorian had certainly gotten the picture. It was entirely irrational to be jealous of some woman he’d never met and who clearly was no longer in Cullen’s life, but… it was there. It was there, and it didn’t help that the woman had been a mage. Was he just a replacement?

“Anyway. I think Knight-Commander Greagoir knew. He made me preside over her Harrowing. If she…” He felt Cullen swallow convulsively, and then the blond shook his head as if to throw off unwanted thoughts. “If she took too long or was taken by a demon, I would have had to strike her down. I… I would have. I took my charge so seriously, and though I would have mourned her, I would have killed her. At least… I would like to think I would have. I… if I could not have done so, I was never the Templar I wanted to be.”

Jealousy gave way to a quiet rage. Dorian had heard of the Harrowing from some of the mages that had joined the Inquisition, and the practice was absolutely barbaric. “Whatever else the Harrowing was, it was Circle law,” Cullen told him softly, as if he sensed Dorian’s objections to the ritual. “We believed it kept us safe, and even if we were wrong, I thought it better than the alternative. A good Templar knows when to strike, and does so without hesitation. I… I _need_ to believe that I was once a good Templar. I need to believe that I started out with the best of intentions and a pure heart. I… if it was all inside me all along… I… I could not…” A deep shuddering breath wracked his frame, and Dorian tightened his arms around him in response.

“I have to think that circumstance shaped what happened next. I… I don’t want to be a monster, Dorian. I hate thinking that hate and… and intolerance was already rooted in my heart when I was a child. If not for… for events at the Tower during the Blight, I would have been a good Templar. I would have looked at mages and seen people. If Uldred hadn’t… hadn’t…” Since the small kisses seemed to encourage him, Dorian pressed his lips to the side of Cullen’s neck, holding there for a moment until his Amatus began to speak again.

“If Uldred hadn’t fallen, I would have been a good Templar.” It was like a benediction, a rote ritual that Cullen needed to hold onto in order to keep going. “After Solona completed her Harrowing, I didn’t dare keep speaking to her. I thought… I thought I’d stopped wanting her. She was a mage under my protection, and I had no right to… to… she was beautiful, but I knew she couldn’t ever be mine. I thought I was fine with that. But then… Uldred came back.” Cullen’s voice had faded to a hoarse whisper, and he was trembling in Dorian’s arms; from fear or some other emotion the mage could not tell. “After Ostagar… he came back. I think… I think he supported Loghain. I don’t know… I don’t know what happened, exactly. There was a meeting of the Enchanters, and then… then everything fell apart. Blood mages and demons and abominations…” The trembling turned to a shudder, and Dorian couldn’t help but hold on a little tighter, half afraid Cullen would shake himself to pieces. He would hold his Amatus together.

“They were everywhere. I watched my brothers and sisters fall… so many of them died, Dorian. They died screaming, or were taken in by the promises demons made. So much blood… rivers of it, and the blood mages had so much power. Greagoir rallied what Templars he could and shut the rest of us in. I… there was so much blood. Demons were pouring into the place, and even good, decent mages were taken. I… I thought that maybe… maybe First Enchanter Irving was still alive. I tried to get to him, but…” Cullen tipped his head back, looking up into the night sky. He still shook, but it seemed he was trying to master himself; Dorian wanted to tell him not to bother. “They got me. Blood mages. I thought they would kill me… sometimes I wish they’d just killed me. Instead they…”

The man paused, and when Dorian looked up at him, what he could see of Cullen’s face was twisted into a grimace of pain. “They kept me. There was a cage made of magic. I don’t… I don’t know what happened to the mages, if they were taken by demons or killed. Either way, the demons came for me. They… they hurt me.” A rough rasp was in Cullen’s voice, and his words had picked up speed, like he was just trying to get through this as fast as he could so it would be over. “They put visions in my head. Terrible things, Dorian. Things I… things that still curdle my blood when I think on them. They… they saw things. They knew things. Solona. They knew about Solona, and they twisted everything around. At first they just promised her to me. I would not submit.” Horror flooded Dorian’s system, and his arms tightened even more, until he was sure the embrace was uncomfortable. Despite the knowledge, he couldn’t stop himself. As long as he was holding Cullen, the blond had an anchor in the present. He wouldn’t get lost to those terrible thoughts, and he would know that Dorian wasn’t going to abandon him to memories.

They showed me hurting her out of love; I saw her hurting me. I saw depravities, the thing I wanted most turned to evil purpose. For days they held me. I wanted them to kill me. They kept trying to tempt me, laughing in my ear, and I just… all I could think of was that a _mage_ had done this. I saw the dangers of magic, and how easily mages fall to evil. I… when the Hero of Fereldan came, I begged him to carry out the Right of Annulment. I wanted every mage in that place dead, from the First Enchanter who wasn’t strong enough to stop Uldred to the youngest child. I wanted them _dead_. Not to keep the evil from spreading, or because I thought it was the right thing to do. After days living with the consequences of magic run wild, I just wanted everyone who had it to die. I hated every single one of them. I hated Solona most of all.”

Maker, but Dorian didn’t entirely blame him for the sentiment. The thought of his Commander dealing with such torture was killing him. No one should have to go through that. No one should have their dreams twisted and broken into something dark and dangerous. He was confident enough – or arrogant enough, depending on who one asked – that he viewed demons with a sort of amused contempt. He would never take what they offered, and he was skilled enough that he could defeat those that tried to take him by force. To him, they’d never been anything but a trap for the more greedy and bloodthirsty Magisters. Dangerous, to be certain, but not anything that he had to worry about personally. He hadn’t understood the preoccupation southerners had for the entities.

At that moment, he itched to storm the Fade and kill every single one of them.

“She died, I think. The Hero of Fereldan refused me and defeated Uldred, and I never saw Solona after that. I don’t know if… if she succumbed to possession or… or was killed outright. I… am glad that she died before I was released. I think I would have done something terrible if I’d met her after what I went through. I filled with hatred and rage… I saw nothing but evil in every mage that was in my charge. I fell apart. Greagoir sent me away, hoping that away from the Circle I could see more than danger. I… couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I was too angry. Mages weren’t people any more. I saw them as weapons, and dangerous ones at that. They turned on their wielder as often as not, and with the power they possessed… I knew they could destroy the world as casually as I might dispatch a bandit, but at least I had to be provoked before cutting a man down. I was… I was not kind to the mages in my charge after that. I spent too many nights reliving the worst days of my life, feeling my mind fracture even in dreams, to have any regard for them.”

‘Not kind’… Dorian wondered what exactly that meant. His blood went cold at the possibilities; he’d heard tales from southern mages. He wanted to believe that Cullen would never violate his oaths to that extent, but men under such duress often did things they regretted later. While the Cullen he knew had clearly learned tolerance, the Cullen of ten years prior might have been very, very different.

“I tried not to be actively cruel, but I was done with mercy. I suggested the Brand for far too many mages, for the most minor of infractions. It made Knight-Commander Greagoir uneasy. He still thought it was my surroundings and the memory the tower held that caused my behavior. He didn’t know I carried it all inside. He didn’t know that Uldred’s treachery and the things I’d seen had made me into a terrible Templar. So he sent me to Kirkwall. I don’t… I don’t know why. Looking back, it was a poor choice. Knight-Commander Meredith found my views ‘refreshing’. I’d seen what mages are capable of when pressed. I knew that every mage would go the same route if enough pressure was applied. I…” The man swallowed hard, clenching his hands into fists so tight that his knuckles went white.

“In those first years, I was complicit in all her actions. I turned my head and ignored the actions of Templars who reveled in causing pain and misery. I ignored the fearful whispers, told myself that… that they were all lies. Even if they weren’t, it didn’t matter. In my mind, they must have done something to deserve it.” Dorian closed his eyes against the truth, hating the words coming out of Cullen’s mouth. Even if he hadn’t been violent or taken mages against their will, he’d known. He’d known and apparently done _nothing_ , and that was almost worse. And if he’d been someone else, if he hadn’t done the same thing in Tevinter, he rather thought he wouldn’t be able to forgive Cullen for his past sins.

“They were dangerous, and Meredith and the Knights under my command were doing what they had to do to keep the threat contained. Such volatile weapons needed to be kept under lock and key, and Meredith knew best how to handle the situation. There were blood mages everywhere, and we had to protect the people from them. I… it took several encounters with Hawke and Meredith’s growing instability before I began to question the path she and I were walking. I… there’s so much I…”

When Cullen paused, throat working and his eyes shut tightly, Dorian decided that their talk had gone on long enough. The thought that there was _more_ that his Commander might yet want to share made him feel just a little nauseous and more than a little fearful. Cullen was trembling like a leaf caught in a gale – he was reaching his breaking point, and Dorian didn’t want him to suffer needlessly. It was the past, and they were only words, and Cullen had changed for the better; he was working to atone. The patience he displayed with the mages that had joined the Inquisition was proof enough of that, and Dorian knew he was quick to take any former Templars to task if they treated mages poorly. He was trying despite his own struggles, despite the disillusionment he’d faced. Beyond all that, Dorian knew the man cared for him, maybe even loved him. If he flinched a little when Dorian used magic, he could hardly be blamed, and he was working to overcome that habitual reaction.

They were both moving toward redemption, and though they could never be fully absolved… perhaps they both deserved just a bit of solace. Perhaps they deserved to find it in each other.

“I’ll hear it all, Amatus.” He murmured in Cullen’s ear, nuzzling the outside curve of it before continuing. “But not tonight. Right now I just want to bring you to my room and wrap us both up in blankets so we can get warm by the fire.” Cullen went completely still, then did an abrupt turn so they were facing each other. He framed Dorian’s face with his hands, staring into his eyes with something that bordered on wonder, though there was still a wary, weary edge to the expression.

“That’s… Dorian, you heard what I… what I did. What I let others do. How can you… why are you so… I expected yelling.” He admitted, shoulders hitching slightly in a defensive move. “I thought… well, you’re a mage. I thought when you heard how I felt about them, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. There was a time when I’d have suggested the Brand that first night, when you licked me.” Cullen tried to look disapproving, but the expression didn’t work quite right, too many other emotions flickering over his face.

“Well you’re so delicious I just couldn’t help myself.” Dorian answered with a careless shrug. “I would face the Brand for it, though I’d rather face death. A fair trade off, for a chance with you.”

“Maker, don’t even joke about such things. I… I couldn’t bear it, Dorian.” One large hand found the nape of Dorian’s neck, fingers playing with the ends of his hair. Cullen’s other arm wrapped around him, pulling the mage flush to his body. “If you died, I…” His voice broke, and Dorian lifted a hand to cup Cullen’s cheek; in response, the blond brought their foreheads together. It was like they were sharing breath as they stood there, drinking in the warmth that came from being together. “It would be bad enough if you died. To see you empty, soulless… No. I will not allow it to happen. You will _never_ face the Rite of Tranquility, not even if I have to tear the world apart to prevent it.”

“The things you say, Amatus.” Dorian whispered, feeling rather choked up himself. “You’re a terrible sap, and if you make me cry and smudge my kohl I shall never forgive you.”

“Yes you will.”

“Hmph. I hate that you’re right. Now. I’m not going to yell or berate you for your mistakes. You’ve changed, Cullen, and for the better. I won’t lie – what you’ve told me is… unnerving. I cannot condone your past actions, but nor will I punish you for them.”

“I was supposed to protect them, Dorian. I was supposed to keep them safe. I may have protected some residents of Kirkwall with the methods we used, but we created more evil than we stopped. I failed my charge as a Templar. I gave the Order everything… and I betrayed it in the end. I am no different than those who chose to leave the Chantry and follow the Lord Seeker.”

“No. You aren’t. Just as you say I am not like the Magisters who are ruining my homeland. They were corrupt long before I was born, and your Order has been in need of reform since it was conceived. We are what circumstances and our choices have made us, yes, but neither of us needs to be held back by the past.” Dorian brushed his nose over Cullen’s, giving a small smile before dropping his hand to the man’s shoulder. “We will move forward from our mistakes together, Amatus. We will show the world that we are more than the sum of our failures, and once we fix the hole in the sky, we will change the world for the better.”

“I’m glad you’re keeping your expectations for our future simple and realistic.” Cullen told him, voice even drier than the wines Dorian preferred. Despite the weighty subject, Dorian couldn’t help but laugh softly at the tone.

“I am nothing if not practical, Amatus,” he teased, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “It is just that I am so talented and fabulous that my goals must be grander than the ones most mortals aspire to. Otherwise I would be terribly bored and terribly dull. I must strive toward higher things as befits one of my stature.”

“And humble too. I am a lucky man indeed.”

“I’m glad you realize that. It will make life much easier on both of us.”

“As you say.” Cullen was smiling, and all was right in the world until the expression slipped away once more. “You… you truly still wish for us to be together? I… if I managed to get it all out, I was prepared for you to walk away. I fear I did not think of what to do if you stayed.”

“You’re an absolutely ridiculous man. I am in this with you until you tell me to leave, Amatus. If we survive all this… if Sylaera manages to defeat Corypheus and we all survive the encounter, my future is _you_. I would like it very much if you would come to Tevinter with me – there’s so much I want to do. But if you decide you want to leave the fighting and struggling behind and return to a dull country existence, I will follow you. Wherever I end up, I want to be at your side.” Dorian paused, then made a face and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Maker, the things you get me to say. We’re being terribly emotional and I simply don’t approve.”

“I think you love it.” Cullen countered, his smile better and more lasting, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. “I think you secretly want me to be even sappier. One day, after we deal with Sylaera, I’m going to follow you around the keep and recite poetry to you. Maybe I can even have Leliana teach me a ballad to serenade you with.”

“Cullen Rutherford. If you do any such thing I shall have to take countermeasures.” Even the thought of it had Dorian blushing, and he tried very hard to kill the little thrill of excitement that made his heart flutter. Surely his illustrious Commander wouldn’t do something so utterly embarrassing… but oh, how he would love to see the reactions of everyone around them as they made fools of themselves over each other. “Cassandra will help me plan them, because she is a romantic at heart.”

“Turning my best friend against me already? That’s very unkind of you, Dorian.”

“All is fair in love and war, Amatus.”

“And since you’ve made your declaration of war, I suppose this is both, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes. I don’t intend to lose, so you really ought to prepare yourself. Once you believe I’m not going anywhere, the real fight will begin. I am going to sweep you off your feet so thoroughly that you’ll never think of Sylaera again. She doesn’t deserve you. Forgive me, that’s not a discussion that we should have right now,” he added swiftly, feeling tension return to Cullen’s body. “I’m simply warning you of what’s to come.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Good. Now let’s go inside please. Unless you want to stay out here until the sun rises? Kattrin is willing to keep Felix for the rest of the night.”

“No… I think… I think tonight will be a good night. If I wake later… if the nightmares come… may I take Felix out for a walk? He’ll keep me from getting lonely, and you won’t have to drag yourself out of your warm bed just to keep me company.”

“I like keeping you company, even when it’s freezing. But if we have to leave the bed, we shall of course bring Felix with us. As Barkon, he really must get used to his surroundings and be able to navigate them even in the dark.” Cullen let loose a soft chuckle, and the last of Dorian’s lingering tension left him. 

“Yes, he does need to get used to the keep, and to me. So even if the sunrise is beautiful, I would rather collect him from Kattrin and then go to your room. You promised me blankets and sitting by the fire.”

“I did, you’re right. We’ll have a nice snuggle and get toasty warm, then go to bed. I…” Dorian hesitated, not wanting to poke at a sore spot or make things difficult for his Commander. “I miss your sad little loft. Perhaps another time we might take Felix there for the night?”

“… of course. I… I have to make sure Sylaera isn’t… she sometimes stops by, and I don’t want… Dorian, she could hurt you. I don’t want that. I have to… I don’t know how… Maker’s breath, why does nothing come easy?”

“Because we never appreciate the easy things, Amatus. I do believe this is worth fighting for, and we’ll deal with Sylaera when the time is right. For now, I just want to be inside where there’s heat.”

“Then let’s get you inside. I can think of several ways to warm you.”

“Commander, you are downright scandalous sometimes. I heartily approve.”

“I thought you might. Now let's get you someplace warm.”

As Cullen herded him toward the ladders they would use to leave the observation tower, Dorian couldn’t help but smile. He’d revealed a darker piece of his soul to Cullen and gotten the same in return. They were neither of them perfect, but they were together. Really, that was all that mattered in the end. No matter what happened, with Cullen’s arm draped over his shoulder and the promise of a future together to sustain him, Dorian felt invincible. He was secure in the knowledge that all was right in his world, and together – with a little help from their friends – they could make things right for the rest of Thedas. Their respective failures could form a foundation of strength as they moved forward, and the future that Dorian had dreamed of was only a battle to save the world away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I feel terrible for taking so long to post - my life went tits up for a bit, and as I mentioned above, I struggled hardcore with this chapter for some reason. 
> 
> From now on, I'm going to try to update weekly, as calcitron has offered to keep beta reading for me and I don't want to overload her with a chapter a day like I was writing when I first started this story. That will hopefully also keep me posting regularly without long gaps, and the writing will be higher in quality. So wins all around! Yay! I intend to try and post the same day every week - once I know what day, I'll make sure to include it in the notes.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and sticking with me despite the long radio silence. <3 You're all wonderful.


	22. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a chat with Cassandra, Cullen has a revelation to share with Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna... leave this here and then slink away in shame for taking so long.
> 
> You're all absolutely lovely and wonderful, and I apologize. Probably isn't worth the wait, but... I tried?
> 
> If you'd like to comment, please do. You may yell at me here or on my [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/).

Frowning down at the vellum on his desk, Dorian wondered if his mother _really_ required a response. It had been… well. Kind was the wrong word entirely, so it had been _something_ of her to send such a large collection of texts all the way to Skyhold. She’d likely spent a small fortune on ensuring the delivery reached him, and from the quick glance he’d taken earlier, the woman had managed to send quality titles to her pariah son. He suspected the entire move had been borne purely of spite for his father, of course. She cared for him in a distant sort of way, but such trifling sentiment wouldn’t be enough to take on such an endeavor.

No, Lady Pavus was clearly displeased with Lord Pavus. This had been the perfectly passive aggressive way to make that known.

The tomes were appreciated, and the boxes were already tucked safely away in his library. Far less appreciated was the expected letter he would need to send in return. Dorian had been working on composing it for _hours_ with ridiculously little to show for it.

_Mother,_

_I received your packages today. Thanks ever so for defying father in this, at least._

Passive aggressive reactions were a family trait, it would seem.

“What do you think, my love?” When Dorian looked to Felix, the pup looked utterly underwhelmed, even yawning before hiding his head under his bedding. “That good, hm? Perhaps I’ll just ask Dagna to craft a little toy to send instead. Mother would appreciate that much more anyway.” Felix only grunted and wriggled further out of view, only his back paws and stubby little tail still visible. “I see how it is. Become Barkon and you forget the people who go you there. Ignore me in my hour of need, see if I care.”

His eyes left the Mabari only grudgingly so he could take in the otherwise empty room; empty but for the dinner plate that was still full of food sitting on his table. Dorian had been trying very hard not to think about it, or the lack of the man who’d been meant to eat it. Unwillingly he found his gaze drawn to the lovely ring gifted to him by his Amatus. Maker, he wished Cullen were with him. His Commander would make this chore bearable. Instead, he was with – 

No. He wouldn’t allow himself to think on it. If he did, Dorian was sure he would lose his temper and storm Sylaera’s tower. The bitch.

Really, the only reason he was thinking on it at all was because he was surprised he’d gotten no note. It was as simple as that, and he certainly wasn’t jealous or upset, just… curious. Every other time the Inquisitor interfered with their plans, Kattrin had appeared at his door, long-faced with sorrow and an apologetic note in her hand. This time, there was nothing – Cullen had simply failed to appear.

_Vishante kaffas_ , he was thinking about it. He was hopeless. Utterly and completely hopeless. Turning away from Felix, he slumped forward to lay on his desk, groaning out loud. Hopeless hopeless hopeless… Lost in his thoughts and his desperate attempts to NOT think, Dorian tuned out the rest of the world, even his darling Felix.

There was no way to know how much time passed before the back of his neck started to tingle. It felt like someone was watching him. That vague feeling was the only reason he didn’t shriek like a small child when a warm, hard upper body draped over his own. If he yelped and jumped a little, well. It was only because he was happy and eager to welcome his Amatus to his room.

“You came,” he sighed softly, allowing himself to smile despite the bittersweet ache in his breast. Cullen had come, but he was so late. Dorian supposed he should just feel grateful he didn’t smell of the Inquisitor.

“I apologize for my lateness,” Cullen murmured against his ear. “I… I was involved in a discussion that took longer than expected.” Dorian didn’t want the excuse, didn’t want to think of where he’d been and what he might have been doing. “I did not realize so much time had passed, or I would have sent Kattrin.” As he spoke, Dorian picked up on a hoarse quality to his voice, and a catch of emotion in his Commander’s breath that was usually absent.

“Are you alright, Amatus?” With Cullen’s body pinning him to the desk, Dorian couldn’t turn to see the man’s expression or wrap his arms around him. Instead, he was forced to settle for reaching back to slide a hand into Cullen’s hair. “You don’t seem quite yourself.”

He felt more than heard Cullen sigh in response, a warm puff of air moving over his ear as the man melted against him. Though it pushed him a bit harder against the wood and meant the edge of his desk was digging into his stomach, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too wrapped up in the feel and sound and smell of Cullen.

“Cassandra has… well she… she has brought something to my attention.”

“So you weren’t with…?”

“ **No**. Maker no.” A shudder started in Cullen’s body and moved to Dorian’s, leaving them shivering together. His Commander tucked himself even closer, the turned and hid his face in Dorian’s neck. Relief flooded through him, relief that he chided himself for – only a little longer. He could handle this a little longer. Waiting for the man to continue, Dorian ran his finger through coarse golden locks, wriggling a little in an effort to get more comfortable. “She’s wi- that doesn’t matter. No. I was going over troop movements with Cassandra, and then we became… distracted.”

“She wanted to swoon with you?”

“Mmm. Andraste save me.”

“So as I was here, pining over your absence and struggling to write a letter to my cold, calculating mother and listening to poor Barkon whine pitifully all the while,” Cullen was shaking against him once more, but he knew that this time laughter at his dramatics was its source. “During all of this, Amatus, YOU were sitting on that lovely rump of yours _gossiping_ about me? I am appalled and wounded to the core. Dueling offense, Commander-mine.”

“As you say love.” Much of Cullen’s tension had faded, and he was no longer hiding his face in the crook of Dorian’s neck. Now he was nuzzling at his skin, pressing the occasional kiss there that made Dorian sigh happily.

“Pretending to obey my every whim won’t save you. But while you are, may we move somewhere more comfortable? With that posture you’re ruining all the tender care and attention I’ve lavished on your back. Also, you’re smooshing me.”

Chuckling, Cullen leaned against him a little harder, then nipped his neck before pulling away to stand. Dorian, after huffing in exaggerated annoyance, opened his mouth to scold… only to yelp again when he was suddenly gathered into his Commander’s arms. Felix, who’d jerked at the sound, poked his head out from under his bedding, squirming eagerly. Dorian was sure that meant the pup would soon jump up to gallop over and force them to play with him… but when the smartest Barkon in all Thedas saw Cullen striding purposefully toward the bed, he snorted and settled back down.

Despite his curiosity – he wanted to know what Cassandra had been gushing about – Dorian was quiet as they got situated on the bed. His Amatus was clearly in an affectionate mood, because he found himself tucked firmly between Cullen’s legs, back pressed tight to his lover’s chest. With Cullen’s warm, large hands splayed over his stomach, Dorian allowed himself to relax completely. After a moment, he turned his head and tucked his face into the crook of Cullen’s neck, sighing softly.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly, letting his eyes drift shut. “I feared I wouldn’t see you before I departed in the morning.”

“That would have been very like her,” Cullen murmured, a faint hint of concern in his voice. “I was certain she would send for me. She kept _smiling_ at me in the war room, and it was…” They both shivered, Cullen tugging him closer even as Dorian moved to do the same. “Well. In any case, she just smiled and told me to enjoy my evening. I would think she was being kind, but I must confess her behavior has me worried.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t borrow trouble. It finds us on its own well enough.”

“Indeed.”

“Now tell me what the swooning Seeker said to you that made you upset-”

“I’m not _upset_ Dorian.”

“- so I know if I need to actually maim her or if-”

“Dorian, you will _not_ throw a fireball at Cassandra.”

“That depends entirely on the conversation the two of you had, doesn’t it?”

“Maker save me and give me strength.” Dorian would have been more concerned if he couldn’t hear the humor in his Commander’s voice, or if one of the man’s hands hadn’t slipped under his shirt. Cullen wouldn’t be stroking his skin if he were actually angry, after all.

“You’re being very unappreciative, Amatus. Here I am trying to defend your honor, and you mock me.”

“I’m reasonably certain you’re the one mocking me, darling.”

“I should be very displeased with you and your assumptions over my motivations. Alas-”

“You can’t be offended because I’m right?”

“And now you steal my moment from under me. As punishment, you may finish the letter to my mother.”

“I’m not writing to your mother, Dorian.”

“What good are you then?”

Cullen began to laugh into his hair, leaving Dorian feeling rather satisfied with himself. He’d never had this before – never had lazy hours of cuddling and bantering, or the knowledge that he and his partner were together for something besides sex. It was so much _more_ with Cullen, so close to being everything he’d always refused to want. Making love to the man was wonderful, but the rest of it was even better. His younger self would be appalled, but on most days Dorian thought he would be entirely content if they never made love again so long as the rest of their relationship (minus one Inquisitor-shaped obstacle) continued on.

“Cassandra said nothing that upset me, truly.” As if he heard Dorian arch a brow, Cullen gave a gusty sigh before recanting. “Well, not on purpose, at least. She didn’t mean to… and really, it is my thoughts that have me… I haven’t been… that is to say… I haven’t been fair, Dorian. Or completely honest.” Dorian felt himself freeze at that, fear lodging itself in his chest. What could that mean? Did his Amatus not want him? Did Cullen… did Cullen not truly love him? Worse, did he love Sylaera?

A pained noise escaped his Commander, and the man tightened his grip; Dorian felt him bury his face in his hair. Without thinking, Dorian lifted his left hand and began to smooth it up and down Cullen’s arm, trying to comfort him. To his surprise, the action caused Cullen to let out a curse and a disgusted snort, and then his Amatus was gently pushing him away. Fear began to throb through his veins, panic clouding his head. Why oh why had he let himself grow so complacent, so happy? Now it was ending, and-

Quite suddenly, he found himself on his back on the bed, blinking up at Cullen – who was hovering over him – in confusion. Cullen looked contrite and worried, and one of his hands moved to cup Dorian’s cheek. “That was part of what I meant, about not being fair,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on Dorian’s. The mage felt like Cullen was trying to see through to the heart of him, to his very soul. “You have ever been there for me, Dorian. You always seek to comfort me, to ensure that I’m alright… and I don’t return the favor enough.” Dorian opened his mouth to protest, only to have Cullen cover it with his hand. “Hush a moment, please. This is… It’s difficult to get out.” After a moment, Dorian nodded – though he was unable to help rolling his eyes even as he did. Cullen let out a soft chuckle and withdrew his hand, setting it to playing with Dorian’s hair instead.

“I am not the only one with hurt in his past.” Now his Commander looked upset, his mouth drawn in a thin, angry line. “I am not the only one with scars, even if yours are not as visible as some of my own. You… Dorian, you’re so…” Struggling visibly, Cullen shook his head as he searched for words to say whatever it was he was trying to say. “You humble me, my darling. I am in utter awe of you, and I haven’t said such things enough. I’m… afraid. I’m afraid of so much, and I can’t… I often find it difficult to push through that, to reach for what I truly want. But you…”

“I’m afraid too, Cullen. I’m afraid all the Blighted time.”

“I know. Yet you didn’t shirk away from this… from us.” Part of Dorian wanted to argue – he’d shied away from their relationship constantly, after all, and he knew that even if Cullen didn’t. But he’d agreed to let Cullen speak, so he held his tongue. “When I… when I sent you away…” Cullen swallowed hard, pain etched in his eyes; Dorian knew an answering hurt could be read in his. “I had wanted you to fight it, to fight me. But you… you _left_ , just like I asked, and I thought… I was so afraid that we were truly done. That we’d let our chance go. It felt like I couldn’t breathe, Dorian, and I was so angry with myself for letting my fear win. I knew if I’d just reached for you, we could have created a life together, one worth living. But I’d given into my cowardice, and you left, and I’d _hurt_ you so much. Why would you fight for me, for us, when I’d told you that it wasn’t what I wanted? I was such a fool. I deserved your hatred; I didn’t deserve you.” Cullen’s voice was raw and intense, and Dorian could feel tears rising to his eyes. Perhaps seeing them, Cullen ducked his head down and caught Dorian’s lips in a sweet, tender kiss. When he pulled away it wasn’t far, and their breath mingled as Cullen continued in a hushed, reverent tone.

“Then you gave me that ridiculous declaration. So full of drama, of passion, of fire… it was foolish and so very perfect. I’d let fear win, but you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let me send you away. I… I may have wept a little when I read it.” The way his cheeks turned pink at the admission was adorable, and Dorian’s heart was pounding, so full he thought it must surely burst. Maker, he adored this wonderful, wounded man, and he would never, ever let him go. Reaching up, he wrapped his arms around Cullen’s shoulders and pulled him down, bringing his Commander’s body to rest atop of his own instead of hovering. Giving him a small smile, Cullen rested his forehead against Dorian’s and took a deep breath. “I was so happy to be given another chance with you. You didn’t seem to hold any grudge, and you’ve been so understanding of the rest of my… situation. I know it isn’t easy for either of us, but I can’t imagine how much it must hurt you. The _thought_ of anyone else touching you is… I couldn’t bear it. And yet you do. You bear it, and you do everything in your power to make me more comfortable. You’re always looking after me, and my well-being. I have not done nearly enough in return.”

“Cullen-”

“I’m almost done. _Please_ let me finish.”

“Of course, Amatus.”

“I’m not… I don’t mean to imply that we should keep a sheet of tallies, or that I want to take care of you only as repayment. That isn’t… Andraste’s ass, why is this so hard? I meant only to tell you how I feel about you, and I’m blathering on like some green lad. I love you, Dorian Pavus.” The teasing tone he’d briefly indulged in was gone, leaving in its place a sincerity that took Dorian’s breath away. There was so much _feeling_ in those simple words, no sign of hesitation or uncertainty to be found. No one had ever declared their affection for him so openly, and Dorian again felt his eyes begin to water. “I love you, and I’m tired of being afraid of it. I’m tired of only allowing myself so much, of talking myself out of reaching for you. You aren’t just in my heart, love – you own it. I’ve wanted you for… Maker, when I first saw you, I was lost. But I was so afraid, Dorian, and you were so wonderful.”

“You… really? I’d never have guessed.”

“That was the way I wanted it. I didn’t want you to know. I had… Maker’s mercy, I’d planned to avoid and ignore you indefinitely. Then the attack on Haven happened. You went out there with her to face a Blighted Archdemon, and I was certain you’d never come back. I was furious that you would choose to throw your life away for her… but then I’d never given you any reason to stay with me, had I? I’d been unkind to you when I wasn’t trying to pretend you didn’t exist.”

“I don’t understand. If you felt that way, then why-”

“Because she was what I deserved.” A chill settled over Dorian at those forbidding words, and he hated the grim look on Cullen’s face. He hated the desolation in his eyes, and he _hated_ that Cullen had felt the need to punish himself with Sylaera Lavellan. “She’s beautiful, yes, but even in the beginning I could see how broken she was. So after Haven, when she indicated she would like to… start something, I agreed. I agreed, and then pretended I cared, pretended I wanted something real with her. I pretended to hate it when she left my bed for another. I pretended I felt real affection for her. I let her bat her lashes and coo at me; I let her pretend that our relationship gave her power over me. It seemed to help her, keep her a bit more stable, and the things that happened in bed were… well. They were a just payment for the things I’d done before the Inquisition. We used each other, and I knew she wouldn’t let me go. Then you and Iron Bull began to make eyes at each other, so I thought it was safe. I thought… I thought we could be friends. So I began to seek out your company.”

“The chess games.”

“Mm. I loved that you would play, even though you’re terrible at chess. I loved talking to you, watching you try to charm me so I would ignore the way you cheated. It wasn’t… it wasn’t safe after all, Dorian. So I started to tell you about how _happy_ she made me, so I wouldn’t reach for you. I was terrified that if I didn’t, one day I would toss the chessboard aside and just take you instead, and you would let me. I tried so hard, Dorian. I thought you were happy with Iron Bull, and I never deserved to be happy anyway. So it was better for us to be friends. And then… then I found you in your library, and it all came unraveled.”

“You never told me why you were there that night.”

“I… she…” Cullen paused, took in a ragged breath, then shook his head. “We had gotten into an argument, and she was upset with me. To try and hurt me, she began to tell me of her various partners, and how they pleased her more than I ever could. She told me about sleeping with Iron Bull. I hadn’t realized… I knew I wasn’t the only one. Sometimes I was glad not to be the only one, because it meant some reprieve from sharing a bed with her. But I never knew she enjoyed Iron Bull’s attentions, Dorian. I had never realized that he strayed. I was so _angry_ with her in that moment, because she’d betrayed you. You, Iron Bull and Sera are the only ones she speaks of with any fondness, you know. I thought… I thought the two of you were _friends_ , and for her to… no. It was, to my mind, unacceptable. For her to interfere in a relationship between two people she seems to almost care about… I couldn’t stand it. Seeking to punish me I could forgive, but this… I needed space. She laughed as I left my tower.”

There was a tangled mess of emotions in Dorian’s chest, and he couldn’t even begin to think of how he might pull them apart. To know that Cullen had desired him for so long was… it was heartbreaking, is what it was, at least when coupled with the knowledge that Cullen hadn’t believed himself deserving of him. Knowing that his Commander had been miserable for _months_ as he tried to shove his attraction aside made him want to cry, and he felt that overwhelming desire to set Sylaera on fire surge inside of him again. Andraste’s tears, he wanted to curl up around Cullen forever and hold him until the idiot finally understood that he was deserving of happiness and love. He wanted to go back in time and yell at both of them for denying themselves and each other for so long. Dorian didn’t realize he was crying until Cullen made a distressed sound and began to sweep the falling tears away with his thumbs. “Maker’s breath, Amatus,” he whispered, knowing he sounded weak and not caring. “I don’t… I…”

“Shhh, love,” Cullen soothed, watching him with concern in his eyes. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m not telling you because I want you to feel badly, I just… I want you to understand why I couldn’t tell her goodbye. It isn’t only because I’m afraid what she’ll do to you – although that is part of it, and a very real fear. I… I needed her, because I didn’t deserve anything else. I wasn’t ready to reach for what I wanted yet, Dorian. I was still afraid, and mired in guilt and self-loathing. I needed her to be my punishment. Even when you gave me… us… another chance, I wasn’t ready. Now you’re leaving in the morning, and with the lives we both lead… nothing is certain. Cassandra reminded me that I can’t take this for granted. I cannot expect you to come back; I cannot count on having time later to end things with Sylaera. I want a life with you, Dorian, but I can’t wait until this is over to start it – we may not both be here at the end. I can’t… I couldn’t face the end knowing you might doubt what I feel for you. I don’t want to regret anything between us, Dorian, when I go to the Maker’s side.”

“Cullen, neither of us-”

“Neither of us is invulnerable,” Cullen interrupted, his calm voice helping to ease some of the terror thrumming in Dorian’s veins. The thought of his Amatus dying in the fight against Corypheus was an awful one. “I do not seek or welcome death, love, but it may come for me anyway. And you venture forth so often, going where I cannot protect you… I hate it, but I am so proud of you for doing it. I can’t abandon my post any more than I could ask you to stay here with me. This war will separate us, over and over, and I can only pray that we both live to see the other side of it.”

“We will, Amatus,” Dorian breathed, searching Cullen’s eyes. “I have to believe that we’ll both make it, and that afterwards we can be deliriously, sickeningly happy with each other.”

“I hope for that, very much.” Cullen leaned down as Dorian pressed up, and again their lips met for a long, slow kiss. When it ended, the blonde wasn’t finished; he began to press soft, swift kisses over Dorian’s face, until the mage couldn’t help but start to laugh. At that, Cullen pulled back, a rather sappy smile curving his mouth. “But I won’t wait until then, Dorian. I was going to – I thought it best to humor her until this was over. I thought… no. I wasn’t thinking at all; I was letting fear guide my actions. I am done with that, and with her.” 

Dorian’s breath caught audibly, and he felt almost guilty for feeling as stunned as he did. He’d believed that Cullen would, eventually, be done answering Sylaera’s summons. However, he’d also had the niggling, relentless fear that perhaps it would never happen, that he would play second-fiddle for the rest of his life. Now… now his Commander looked utterly sure of himself, a happy light in his eyes despite the firm, determined set of his jaw. “Really?” Maker’s balls, he sounded weepy again.

“Yes. Really.” Two more kisses were bestowed on him then, Cullen dropping his lips briefly to the outside corner of each eye. “Please don’t cry darling. I’m sorry that I didn’t do it sooner. I’m sorry I couldn’t put my fear aside long enough to be what you deserved.”

“You are what I deserve, Cullen Rutherford. And I am what you deserve. If you contradict me, I’ll launch a fireball at you,” he warned, sensing his love’s desire to do just that. “I love you, and you love me; to my thinking that makes us each worthy.”

“I… if you say so, Dorian. I’m trying very hard to believe that.” One of his hands ran down Dorian’s arm, twisting when he got to the wrist to take Dorian’s hand in his own. Tugging it into his line of sight, Dorian watched him study their entwined fingers, his gaze eventually coming to rest on the ring Dorian hadn’t taken off once since receiving it. Slowly, he moved his eyes until they were locked with Dorian’s, then kissed the ring, warm lips brushing against skin as well when he did. “Someday, I’ll give you another,” he promised, voice rough in a way that made Dorian’s breath catch in his throat again. “And I’ll wear one that matches. I don’t care if your Tevinter peers won’t recognize it; someday, after this madness ends and we have a moment’s peace, I will pledge myself to you in front of the Maker and his Holy Bride.”

“I thought you _didn’t_ want me to cry?” Dorian accused, working hard to keep his emotions from overwhelming him, blinking quickly to hold the tears back. “You’re a terrible, sentimental sap. I demand you cease immediately.” Cullen only chuckled, and Dorian was sure his Commander could read the joy he was trying so hard to hide with irritation. “How I fell in love with such a romantic fool I’ll never know.”

“Neither will I, but I’ll forever be glad of it.”

“So you’ll… tell Sylaera?”

“Yes. The moment you return from this errand, Dorian. I swear.”

“Not before?” Doubt, ugly and dark and shameful, began to claw at his heart again.

“If you were not leaving in the morning, I would. But you have to travel with her for several days, without me there. I won’t rouse her anger and then leave you to face it alone. She would hurt you, Dorian. I know that she would; I won’t make you a target out there in the wilderness. I know Iron Bull and Sera would try to keep you safe, but… no. When you are back here at Skyhold and we can face the repercussions together, I will tell her.” Cullen’s eyes searched his, and Dorian knew the man was reading him like a book again. “You don’t… believe me?”

“I want to, Amatus. I want to believe you so badly it hurts. I simply…” Pausing, Dorian tried to find the right words, then shrugged. “I have heard such things before. No one ever committed to revealing our relationship in the moment – it was always in some nebulous future, after one event or another. I know this is different-”

“This is you flinching at magic,” Cullen finished with a sage little nod. “I know you would never use it to hurt me, but I still… it reminds me.”

“That is quite the analogy, Amatus.”

“An accurate one.”

“I suppose that’s true enough. I am trying not to doubt.”

“And I’m trying not to flinch.” Cullen was beaming down at him, and Dorian felt a foolish smile stretching his own mouth wide. “It may take a while, but I think we’ll both manage, in the end.” Suddenly, the man’s expression shifted, turning somehow shy even as something predatory lurked in the depths of his eyes. “I cannot convince you, not really, not until the deed is done. But… there’s something that might reassure you, if you’re interested.”

Curiosity peaked, Dorian couldn’t help but arch a brow up at his Commander. “Oh? And what’s that?” The shyness disappeared completely, leaving Cullen smirking down at him in that cocky, arrogant way that made Dorian’s blood sing and his cock take interest. Leaning down, Cullen nuzzled his mouth against Dorian’s ear, then began to speak in a rumbling purr, breath hot against Dorian’s skin.

“I’m going to make you mine, Dorian. I couldn’t before, not when I knew I would return to her bed. But now? I’ll never sleep with anyone but you, Dorian. Not until the Free Marches sink beneath the Waking Sea and Fereldan is swallowed by the Blight. You’re mine, and I’m yours, love, forever. So I’m going to take you, Dorian. Would you like that?”

Desire flared in him, hot and bright, warring with love and tenderness. He’d wondered why Cullen would never be the one ‘on top’, as it were, had worried his Commander found him lacking. Now he realized it was a silly, almost adorable attempt to keep Sylaera from tainting that part of their relationship. To have him offer it now… it helped Dorian believe that soon they really would belong only to each other. And the thought of it, of Cullen taking him… “Oh _yes_ ,” he breathed, hearing the neediness in his own voice, feeling the way his cock was rapidly growing hard. “Please, Cullen… please. I want you so much.”

“I know, love. And I’m sorry fear kept me from giving you what you want for so long. I’m not afraid anymore, Dorian.” Chapped lips brushed over the shell of his ear, and then a warm, wet tongue was following the curve of it before darting down, pulling his earlobe into the man’s mouth. As Cullen sucked at his flesh, Dorian moaned helplessly, arching up into Cullen’s hard, muscled form. Relinquishing his prize, the blond put his mouth to Dorian’s ear again, his hips rolling into Dorian’s to press their cocks together. “But tonight I’m finally going to keep my promise, the one I made before you spilled your seed in my hand that first time. I’m going to touch and taste every inch of you, Dorian Pavus, until you’re a whimpering, begging mess beneath me,” Cullen wouldn’t have to do much to get him there, Dorian mourned as he let out a whimper from the words alone, cock giving an enthusiastic jerk in his smalls. “And then I’m going to take you, darling. I’m going to take that perfect ass of yours with my cock, until the only word that escapes your lips is my name, until all you can remember is me. I want you to scream my name when you come undone, Dorian. Can you do that for me?” Maker, but Cullen’s voice should be outlawed throughout all of Thedas, Dorian though dizzily. It was entirely too much to contend with, and the picture he painted with that sinful voice had him aching with need.

“Amatus?”

“Yes love?”

“We’re both wearing _far_ too many clothes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be smut coming soon. <3


	23. Making Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is moooostly smut - if you don't want to read such things, you can skip down to near the end, and the line that starts "It was such a novel thing" - smut is over at that point.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes and awfulness are mine. 
> 
> Hnnng. Writing smut is so hard, and just... oh my goodness. I'm just gonna fling this into the void and run away blushing.

Dorian had never forgotten their first charged encounters, or the few times when Cullen’s take-charge attitude had made an appearance in their bed. Being ‘on top’ as it were certainly didn’t bother him, and burying himself dep inside his Amatus was exceptionally satisfying. He’d be lying, however, if he said he didn’t daydream about ‘Commander Cullen’ being completely in charge of the both of them in bed and simply _taking_ what he wanted; the few flashes of that side of the man he’d gotten had only whetted Dorian’s appetite for more. He’d sensed a struggle inside of Cullen though, one that had always made him hesitant to push for such a thing. Both of them comfortable, happy and eager was far more important than who was doing the taking, after all, so he didn’t mind waiting until his Amatus was ready.

And Maker’s breath, that forbearance was paying off now.

Cullen had completely ignored his clothing complaint, the signature smirk that always had part of Dorian standing at attention on his lips. Then the kissing had started, and he’d rather gotten lost in the sensation of it, forgetting to whine about how they were both still far too dressed.

Light, teasing touches of lightly chapped lips against his own slowly became longer and more lingering, until he was aching for a _real_ kiss. As soon as he took the initiative to get one – partly by pressing his hips ups and grinding against his Commander – the man immediately growled a warning that Dorian ignored. He chased after the man’s lips instead, only to find himself whining in protest when Cullen’s body lifted away from his, leaving him cold and wanting.

A moment later, the single point of connection between them was Cullen’s calloused left hand wrapped around both of Dorian’s wrists, echoing their first time together in the Arcane Library. Having his hands pinned above his head that way was as thrilling as it was frustrating; he wanted to touch and tease, and direct Cullen’s attention to where it would do the most good, he couldn’t. No matter how he arched or wriggled, he couldn’t fit their bodies together or free his hands, and the infuriating Fereldan refused to aid in his endeavor.

No, he just hovered and stared down at Dorian with that wonderful, damnable smirk. His eyes were hooded but full of banked desire; when they slowly tracked down his body, Dorian couldn’t help but shiver. His Amatus seemed to appreciate that, because when he met Dorian’s eyes again his smirk was even wider, full of a smug satisfaction that Dorian either wanted to smack him or blow him for – he couldn’t quite decide.

“Peace love,” Cullen murmured when he continued to fight against his hold, bending his neck to brush a kiss to the corner of Dorian’s mouth. His lips then trailed up over his jaw, the scrape of his stubble providing a light but entirely delicious burn against his skin. “I’ve got you… I’ll take care of you.”

“Then _kiss me_ , you oaf!” There was a husky chuckle against his ear, and a brief, tantalizing brush of fingers moving under his shirt and over his hip. Both phantom touches were gone entirely too soon… and then, without warning, Cullen’s teeth sank into the crook of his neck. He couldn’t help but cry out at the sharp, sweet bite, hips bucking up off the bed and again meeting only air. The needy, almost embarrassing whimper that escaped quickly turned into a moan as his Commander began to suck on his flesh hard enough to leave a lasting mark.

“… missed seeing my claim on you.” Cullen admitted in a dark, husky rumble upon relinquishing his hold. The words sent need shuddering through his body, hard length twitching happily in his trousers with no relief in sight. “Missed seeing proof that you’re _mine_.”

“So possessive, Amatus.” Maker’s tears, he sounded breathless, dazed and weak, not at all like the suave and seasoned seducer he’d always fancied himself to be. “I – ah!” Fuck, the man had moved to the other side of Dorian’s neck, and he wondered if he’d have a new necklace of bruises to show off when the dawn broke. The idea certainly didn’t displease him, even if he’d get a brutal ribbing from Bull and Sera, even if Sylaera glared at him all the way to the Storm Coast. “I’d no… no idea you… mmm…”

“No idea of what?” The question was almost as lazy as the trail of kisses moving down the slope of his neck. As the neared the collar of his shirt, Cullen reached up with his free hand to tug it aside. Once it was out of the way, a series of teasing nips, nibbles and long swipes of his tongue were laved over Dorian’s collar bone. It was astonishingly sinful, the brush of the blonde’s scruff against his damp, sensitive skin – made it Blighted hard for a fellow to gather his thoughts enough to speak.

“Hmm? Oh. That… nothing? Just… mmmnnnn… I didn’t realize… fuck, Amatus, do stop a moment.”

“Weren’t you the one whining because I wasn’t going fast enough? Do make up your mind.”

“Don’t make m- oh, yes… _please_ Cullen.” He wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking for as the man began to tease the hollow of his throat with his teeth. A harder bite, perhaps, or that _real_ kiss his lips were still begging for. Maybe he just wanted the heavy weight of Cullen’s body against his, so he could find some relief for his hard, throbbing length. Perhaps he wanted it all, and for his Amatus to _finally_ strip them naked and get on with the main event. IN the end, it didn’t matter what he was asking for, because his plea was ignored.

“If I let your hands go, will you keep them still?” Cullen crooned in his ear, voice still rough with desire. “Will you be good for me, Dorian, or do I need to tie them in place?”

Maferath’s balls, the man was perfect. For a brief, dizzying moment, Dorian thought he might well make a mess of his smalls without Cullen truly laying so much as a hand on him. It had been a while since he’d been in ropes, but if he were to trust anyone to do it right, it would be his Amatus. Just the thought of it was almost unbearably exciting, fanning the flames of his need higher. “Amatus…” His voice was high-pitched and whiney to his own ears, and he’d have been embarrassed if Cullen didn’t look so damned pleased with himself. “Please Amatus… _touch me_.” Another soft chuckle, and then the blond fell on his mouth.

It was the kiss he’d been craving, and his Commander finally slid one muscular thigh between his legs, giving Dorian something to rut against. He did so happily as Cullen licked into his mouth, hand tightening around his wrists at the same time. Pleasure sparked along his nerves, and he could have wept at the feel of it.

Because when his Amatus _really_ kissed, he did it like he was laying siege. Dorian was given no quarter, Cullen’s tongue exploring his mouth thoroughly and laying claim to every bit of him. After giving a last warning squeeze, Cullen released him, both his hands going to Dorian’s hips. He broke the kiss to nip playfully at Dorian’s lower lip, slowly rucking his shirt up with ease and soft caresses as he did. Dorian _wanted_ to bury his hands in the blonde’s locks or run them along those broad shoulders, or maybe work on finally getting the both of them naked… but he managed to keep his hands above his head, not wanting to disappoint his lover. To remind himself, he twisted his fingers in the silk pillowcase beneath him; he could and WOULD keep his hands there, where his Amatus had put them.

Almost as if rewarding him for his internal declaration, Cullen’s tongue dipped into his mouth again, this time tangling with his own. It was a slower, deeper kiss, one that sent liquid fire coursing through his veins. They didn’t separate again until his Commander pulled away to remove his shirt entirely.

The he was kissing, licking and nibbling his way down Dorian’s neck and chest, turning him into a whimpering, moaning mess of a man. When his lips closed around one nipple, tongue flicking at the hard nub, he couldn’t stifle a soft cry, and his hands jerked as he fought the urge to reach for the other man. When he forced his eyes open to look down, they met Cullen’s – it was like a direct line between them, heat building and desire sparking along it. Never breaking that connection, he moved across Dorian’s chest and scraped his teeth over the opposite nipple before biting down lightly. It was a delicious pinch that wrung Cullen’s name from his lips, earning him a pleased rumble that came directly from the man’s chest. This time when his hips bucked, Cullen met him, shifting his own hips so their throbbing lengths were pressed together. As they ground against each other, Dorian reveled in knowing that his Amatus was just as excited and hard as he was; he would swear he could feel the blonde’s cock twitching even through the layers that kept them from touching skin to skin.

Cullen kept the promise he’d made in the library, running his hands and mouth down what felt like every inch of his skin. Whenever he found a spot that caused Dorian to react with a cry, wriggle or whimpering moan, he paused and lavished attention on the spot, learning what best pleased the mage. Dorian had never felt so cared for or taken care _of_ ; the way his Commander was mapping out his body added a layer of intensity to what was happening between them. It was almost like his Amatus was _worshipping_ him… he’d never experienced anything close to what Cullen was giving to him without question or hesitation. Every time their eyes met, Dorian knew that Cullen was seeing _him_ , touching _him_ , and it made for a rather heady headspace. This wasn’t about two nameless, faceless people coming together for mutual pleasure; this was about _Cullen_ and _Dorian_ expressing their love.

If he weren’t mindless with pleasure, the idea of it might well have made him cry.

Even his Amatus was beginning to be impatient, or so it seemed – when he reached the waistband of Dorian’s trousers, he wasted no time in removing them _and_ Dorian’s smalls. Once that was done, Cullen’s eyes roved hungrily over his body, taking him in and running a possessive hand down his chest, then his abs, and then even lower. From his place kneeling between Dorian’s legs, he gripped the base of his cock and squeezed – it was the only thing that kept Dorian from cumming as soon as he was touched. Cullen bent, gazing directly into his eyes again, and nuzzled his lips against the head of his cock before flicking out his tongue to catch the welling pre-cum that had started to dribble down the side.

“Amatus,” Dorian managed, rolling his hips up in a sinuous motion. “Don’t… can’t… won’t last…”

“Just a small taste then.” Maker’s breath, the man sounded as wrecked as Dorian felt, and it was amazing. Even _more_ amazing was the sight and feel of him opening wide, fitting his lips around the head of Dorian’s cock with ease. He’d gotten blowjobs from Cullen before, but never when he was this worked up – again, it was the man’s tight grip on the base of his shaft that kept him from losing it completely. More than anything, he wanted to reach down to his lover and grip his hair, either to pull him down or push him away; he’d decide once the appendages were in place. But no! His hands had to stay where they were, and as Cullen descended down his shaft in one long, smooth motion, his fingers convulsed and twitched in the pillowcase, shifting almost as much as his restless hips.

“Cullen!” he shouted when the head of his cock hit the back of the man’s throat and his Amatus immediately swallowed around him, all tight, wet heat and bliss. His shaft bucked and twitched, but Cullen’s grip was true, and he _still_ wasn’t allowed to finish – it was hard to tell if that was a good thing or not.

Thankfully (unfortunately), the blond pulled off only a moment later, leaving Dorian’s shaft shiny with saliva. Cullen moved to cover him with his body again – still fully clothed, the blasted idiot – and pressed his mouth to Dorian’s ear. “You always taste so good, love,” he rumbled, his hands petting and caressing Dorian’s skin. “And you’re doing so well for me, Dorian. Maker’s mercy, the things you do to me… the things I want to do to you…”

“ _Please_ …”

“Shhh… I know. I need to get the oil – while I’m doing that I want you to get comfortable and put a pillow under your hips. I want to watch your face as I take you.” Suddenly, his eager, hungry countenance melted into an expression that seemed almost embarrassed. “Neither of us will last long this night. I… apologize, and I swear to y-”

“If you don’t go get the oil and come back naked within the next minute, Amatus, I _will_ kill you. I want you inside me _now_ ” Giving a soft chuckle, Cullen pulled away and left the bed – as much as he wanted to watch him, Dorian forced his attention away from his Commander, instead following through on his own tasks. Grabbing one of the many pillows on his bed (that just happened to be one of two with cotton instead of silk covering them), he situated it under his hips, cock laying heavy and thick on his abs as he adjusted himself to be ready for Cullen. Unsure of what the man had intended for his hands, he brought them to the headboard and gripped there, giving himself a handhold.

Before he could shout for Cullen and demand his return, his Amatus was there and gloriously naked. It didn’t matter that Dorian had seen the sight many times before – he took in the view like it was the first and last time, because Cullen’s scarred, muscular body deserved to be appreciated for the marvel it was. His cock was an angry red, contrasting beautifully with his pale skin; Dorian wasn’t given enough time to really take in the bobbing length, however, because Cullen got up onto the bed and crawled between his legs, his mouth fitting against Dorian’s for a sweet, deep kiss. Vaguely, he registered the sound of a bottle of oil uncorking, but most of his attention was on Cullen and his tongue and the way it was delving in and out of his mouth.

The first touch of an oiled finger against his pucker had his hips bucking up, but he was met with nothing but air. Cullen sat back again, a look of intense, worshipful attention on his face as he stared at Dorian’s entrance, watching his finger slowly sink in. The thick, calloused digit provided quite a bit of stretch all on its own – when they finally worked up to three it would be beautiful. For now, the slight discomfort and burn was well worth the knowing that soon his Amatus would be buried inside of him for the very first time. In the brief time they’d been separated, Cullen had found his discipline again, because no matter how Dorian pleaded or how much he wriggled back against the invading finger, he wouldn’t speed up. No, he prepared Dorian slowly and lovingly, twisting his finger and probing until he’d found the spot that made him shout Cullen’s name as sparks flared to life behind his eyes. More oil and a second finger, and Dorian kept on begging in broken words, trying to assure the man that he didn’t need so much prep, that he was fine, and he wasn’t going to last if Cullen didn’t pick up the pace a bit; his Commander was not swayed in the slightest. He scissored his fingers carefully between each twist and turn, making sure to hit the perfect spot often enough that Dorian’s discomfort had completely melted away, and now there was only pleasure. Well, pleasure and a mess on his stomach, where he twitching shaft was leaking heavily.

His fingernails were scoring his headboard with the effort it took to keep his hands there when Cullen finally, _finally_ slid three fingers deep inside of him. There were no more teasing touches or rotations of the man’s wrist – though Dorian was swiveling his hips in blissed-out abandon – just Cullen’s fingers pumping in and out, the pads of his fingers touching on that sweet spot for just a moment every time. Even though part of him still wanted more – Maker did he want to be stretched around his lover’s magnificent cock – Dorian was completely caught up in the motion of the man’s fingers, and could probably have reached his climax just from that. Cullen hadn’t forgotten their goal however, and only laughed softly at Dorian’s needy whine when he withdrew all his fingers completely.

It was always a strange feeling, being open and empty, and it was one he hated. Thankfully, Cullen was quick to slather more of the oil on his length before settling the blunt head of his cock against Dorian’s entrance. Feeling the weight of his attention, Dorian fluttered his eyes open to meet Cullen’s; the love and _need_ that he felt was reflected in his Amatus’ honeyed gaze. Slowly – so slowly, so very, very slowly – he began to push inside. Truthfully, it was a longer process than Dorian would have allowed if he’d been in charge. He’d have loved to have Cullen enter him in one rough shove, but that would also have no doubt ended things for both of them. As it was, by the time the head of his cock was fully buried with Dorian squeezing around him playfully, Cullen was wild-eyed and panting above him, jaw clenched as he fought to control himself. It was at that moment that Dorian finally abandoned the idea of following orders completely; Cullen could punish him later if he truly wanted to.

His hands left the headboard and delved into Cullen’s sweaty blond locks, running through them in a soothing motion several times. Though he didn’t stop his slow push forward, Cullen seemed to appreciate the touch and turned his head to press a careless kiss to his right palm. Both his hands were now on Dorian’s hips, gripping tightly in a bruising hold that forced Dorian to keep them still. During the blissful eternity it took for Cullen to come home completely inside of him, Dorian’s hands slid to his shoulders, moving in frenetic, eager strokes to urge his Commander forward… but then he was buried to the hilt, and Dorian found himself pleased that they’d gotten there this way.

It was incredibly intense to feel Cullen’s girth settled in his grasping, squeezing hole, their gazes still locked. The things he could see in his Amatus’ eyes! Just as Dorian had been sure he would, Cullen fit _perfectly_ inside of him, stretching him and making him feel full without causing even the slightest hint of discomfort. There was a long moment where they both stayed there, gazing into each other’s eyes, Cullen hovering over him and the both of them panting softly for breath. Then Cullen once more brought their lips together in a tender kiss, one that was quite possibly the sweetest Dorian had ever had. And as they kissed, his left hand slid up Dorian’s side and then along his arms until he could tangle their fingers together, bringing both their hands to rest on the pillow beside Dorian’s head. It was a gesture that had his heart swell near to bursting, and he wrapped his legs around Cullen and tipped his hips invitingly, willing the man to move.

When he finally did, Dorian knew that their coupling wouldn’t last long at all; even Cullen’s first stroke was rough and hurried, and the man muttered an oath as he tore his lips away from Dorian’s. That didn’t matter, not really – not when they would have years together (and they would have those years if Dorian had to storm the Fade and petition the Maker personally) for slow, lazy hours of making love. This wasn’t the last time Cullen would take him, so if it wasn’t utter perfection in its execution, that was alright. What mattered more were the emotions shared between them and what his Amatus being willing to be on top meant for their relationship. So when Dorian felt Cullen’s shaft begin to swell after only a few thrusts of his hips, he wasn’t at all disappointed. No, he just slid his free hand between their sweaty bodies and began to stroke his own length, doing his best to keep pace with Cullen’s increasingly rough, hard thrusts.

Five strokes later, Cullen groaned his name and hid his face in the crook of Dorian’s neck where he bit down hard enough to draw an answering shout from Dorian. Feeling Cullen find release inside of him was almost enough to set off his own climax, but not quite. As his Amatus trembled above him, still worrying his neck with his teeth, Dorian continued to stroke himself, focusing on the feel of the man he loved as he rode the crest of his own pleasure. When he came, it was with Cullen’s name on his lips and stars bursting behind his tightly closed eyes. He squeezed his Amatus’ hand as he felt his seed paint his stomach and Cullen’s, gasping for breath in sync with his lover.

Almost as soon as he finished, Cullen collapsed on top of him, strength leaving him in the wake of their lovemaking. Dorian didn’t mind the weight, not at first; it slowly reeled him back down to Thedas, grounding him in the real world and helping him remember this was all real. Once he got a bit of his breath back, he began to run his free hand up and down his Commander’s spine and turned his head, beginning to murmur praises and endearments in what little Old Tevene he knew – it was far too embarrassing to pour his heart out in a language Cullen could understand. The blond was still panting softly into his neck, though at least he wasn’t using his teeth anymore; instead, a few moments later, he began to soothe the ‘injured’ area with his lips and tongue, taking the sting out of the bite mark he’d left behind. Just as he started to feel too heavy, Cullen carefully pulled out and rolled them both onto their sides before tucking Dorian’s head under his chin in a move that felt both tender and sweet.

It was still such a novel thing, cuddling after sex – from the way his Amatus wrapped his long, strong limbs around him and kept him close, he rather thought Cullen shared in that feeling. Despite their mess, he wasn’t in a hurry to leave the warmth of Cullen’s arms to get them cleaned up. He was perfectly content to let his Amatus press kisses into his hair and stroke his hands up and down his back. For quite some time, they were quiet together, Dorian breathing in Cullen’s scent, cataloguing everything he could about the man to take with him on his next journey.

“I don’t want to go,” he admitted in a soft whisper.

“I know,” was the answer, spoken into his hair as Cullen tightened his hold. “I don’t want you to either… but we both know you would hate to stay behind just as much. I’m going to miss you terribly while you’re gone.”

“I suppose being without you will be rather dull on my end as well. At least you’ll have Felix to snuggle with. Who will I have? Sera? … actually, she might allow it, if I ask nicely and Sylaera spends her time fucking Bull instead. Either way, I won’t know who I’m sharing a tent with until the first night.”

“... would you laugh at me if I demanded you not sleep with your ex-lover? Not even _just_ to sleep?” Part of him wanted to chuckle, but he fought the urge; instead, he nuzzled Cullen’s jaw before delivering a bite of his own.

“Will you believe me if I promise to sleep outside on the cold, hard ground instead of sharing a tent with the big ox?” The snort he gave was answer enough, and Dorian couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’ll speak with Sera, Amatus – she may take pity on my sorry state and declare me her favorite for the trip. I am allowed to snuggle with her, correct? Neither of us is even remotely interested in the other’s bits, after all.”

“Why would you _want_ to? The woman has an unhealthy fascination with bees. Don’t laugh, it’s true! I found her plans once, Dorian, with pictures included. She’s terrifying.”

“Isn’t she? It’s delightful. I want to take her to Tevinter with me.”

“I thought you loved your homeland?”

“A little chaos wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

“Well I thought you loved _me_ then. I refuse to go to Tevinter in her company. She keeps looking at me and… smiling. It’s incredibly disturbing.”

“Never fear, Amatus – I’ll protect you from the mad elf. … the mad elf obsessed with bees, anyway. The other is a bit trickier.”

“Hmn.”

“I do, you know. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You will take care of Felix, won’t you?”

“Of course. He’s a good boy – I won’t mind having him with me in the office during the day, and if he gets bored he can join Kattrin and Nylan in running messages.”

“Not Ny-”

“Nylan is a perfectly nice young man who is does his job well when crazy mages aren’t slinging spells at him, and he and Felix get along swimmingly.”

“How did I end up with a Mabari with such questionable taste?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, love. Nylan loves the pup – he’s Fereldan, you know.”

“Explains the smell.”

“ _Dorian_.” At Cullen’s exasperated tone, Dorian smiled and nuzzled at his jaw again, fingers playing in the light dusting of hair on the blonde’s chest.

“Fine. I apologize for the insult to Nylan’s honor, and he may keep my noble Mabari company while I’m slogging through the muck.”

“Thank you.”

“Hmmm. Amatus?”

“Mm?”

“While I’m gone… you should move some of my things back into your terrible little tower.”

“What? You want me to – Dorian, you don’t like my tower.”

“I like it just fine, thank you. You made it terribly cozy, you know. And I know you’re more comfortable there, so while I’m away you’ll sleep there with Felix I’m sure.”

“Well yes, but… are you sure?”

“Do you not want me ther-”

“No! That’s not… Dorian, of course I want you there. I’ve… I’ve always wanted you there, ever since that night I found yo-… that’s not the point. You’re more comfortable here, and I don’t mind it. Not since you put all those globe-lights up. There’s not always enough air, but… well. I know this is your place. I like… I like being welcome in your place. I wasn’t sure that you’d… well that you’d even want me in her while you were away.”

“What? Cullen, you twit.”

“I do love it when you talk sweetly to me.”

“Sass, Commander, is unacceptable in our bed.”

“… if it truly is ours, I vote we allow sass.”

“Perhaps on a case by case basis. Amatus, I love you. I don’t know if you understand… I’ve never... I like you in my space, you Fereldan ninny. But I’ve rather been thinking of the room as ours, and I was hoping that perhaps the bedroom in your tower might become ours as well. I’ve become fond of the drafty little building. Since you’re done with Sylaera, I thought… but of course if you’d rather-”

“I don’t know what you’d want me to bring. Will you have time to make a list in the morning?”

“No. But I trust you’ll figure it out. Trust your instincts, Amatus.”

“I… of course. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“Maker’s breath. Ask Kattrin to help you if you get stuck.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that – she’d be thrilled to help.”

“Indeed. Amatus?”

“Yes?”

“We’re sticky, and I’m tired. I have to get up very early in the morning to depart, you know.”

“That does sound like a problem.”

“ _Amatuuus_ …” Cullen sighed heavily but fondly, running a hand through Dorian’s hair. He didn’t leave the bed though, or even pull away very far. Instead he reached behind Dorian and pushed the soiled pillow off the bed, then shifted both of them until they were tucked securely under several layers of covers. “Still sticky.” Dorian muttered, descending into a sulk as his drowsiness increased.

“I know love. Go to sleep – I’ll wake up early and have a nice, hot bath waiting when you get up. I may even be able to manage a decent breakfast for you. Doesn’t that sound better than a cold, damp cloth right now?”

“Hmmmnnnffpt.”

“Sleep. We’re not _that_ sticky, and I… I don’t want to let you go until I have to, not even for a few moments.”

As that was a sentiment he could hardly argue, Dorian held his peace. He didn’t like the mess that remained after sex, but he certainly had no intention of leaving Cullen’s warm embrace to get a cloth on his own. He could use magic, of course, but… well. No need to make his Commander flinch, especially not after the man had given him such a wonderful evening and such an important piece of himself. If the candles burnt out during the night, the globes he and Dagna had created would come to life, so he didn’t need to worry about that, and Cullen was so warm against him. So he followed orders, and drifted off to sleep that was deeper and more restful than anything he’d gotten in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's DORIANMANCE WEEK guys. I'm gonna try to post something for it every day. I have the last chapter of this fic half-written, so that'll hopefully be up later today. Then I have a couple shorts in this universe that are half-developed, and then I'll either start the next major installment in this story or maybe do a couple one-shots or something. I dunno. XD 
> 
> If you want to send me prompts for one-shots on my [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com) feel free! Ask-box is always open. <3
> 
> I'm back on my meds and actually able to keep to a schedule, so hopefully I'll be able to fully participate in the fun this week! Thanks so much for reading!


	24. Taking Leave (The Beginning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is... the last chapter of this story. More notes from me at the end!
> 
> If you enjoy it, please comment! Thanks so much for reading!

“I’ll miss you terribly, you know. I wish you could come with me, but that’s quite impossible. … Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re breaking my heart… Amatus, tell Barkon Felix that you’ll take wonderful care of him and I’ll be back before he knows it.”

“I will take wonderful care of you and Dorian will be back before you know it.” Cullen parroted dutifully, though if his smile was anything to go by he thought Dorian was being ridiculous. Despite that he played along, and Dorian loved him for it. “Besides, we’ll be so busy terrorizing new recruits and starting your own training that you’ll hardly have the time to miss your papa,” the blond informed the pup in his arms – Dorian resolutely insisted o himself that he didn’t find anything about all this even remotely adorable, and the title of ‘papa’ certainly didn’t make his heart do a happy little flip in his chest. Felix whined uncertainly in response, wriggling a bit before lunging up to lick Cullen’s chin in a slobbery show of confidence. Still, when he turned his bright, too-intelligent eyes on Dorian to see him pack another pair of socks, he let out a mournful howl. The Mabari could tell that Dorian was leaving for a time and was clearly unhappy with the notion.

Except for Felix’s dramatics, it had been a lovely, peaceful morning. The fact that the sun hadn’t yet risen and he was bathed, fed and almost ready to be on the road was an annoyance, but one that he could bear. His Amatus had gone to great lengths to make sure functioning so early was easy for him – if this was what it would be like every time he left, Dorian didn’t think he’d mind having to go quite so much. Not when Cullen had a steaming bath waiting for him when he woke and had gone off to fetch him a delicious breakfast of turnovers – two filled with chicken and cheese and one with spiced apples – while Dorian soaked away the lingering soreness from the night before. The blond had even brought extra turnovers for him to bring with him, which Dorian couldn’t help but kiss him for. He _loathed_ travel rations, after all.

And then there was all the touching. He’d been called too needy by lovers in the past, been condemned for enjoying small, innocent but intimate gestures too much. Cullen, however, seemed to crave the near-constant connection almost as much as he did, and they both reached for each other without hesitation or comment. Hardly a moment passed when their fingers weren’t linked or their thighs pressed together, and as soon as he’d sat down to breakfast, Cullen had draped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him snugly to his side. He didn’t relinquish that hold until Dorian had to pack, and even then had seemed reluctant to let him go.

It was incredibly reassuring and filled him with a sort of fortitude that he’d never truly experienced before. Cullen made him want to be strong, and so he would be. Every touch bolstered that strength and shored up his defenses for the Amatus-less days to come. Even now, while Dorian stood by the bed going over his gear one last time, Cullen (who sat on the floor like the barbarian he was) had one socked foot pressed against Dorian’s ankle.

“I don’t know if we should bring him to the gate to see me off,” he fretted, looking to the Mabari pup. “He’ll make a dreadful scene, and I’ll probably shame the whole of Tevinter by crying over a dog. I do wish he was old enough to bring with me.”

“As do I.” Cullen agreed, scratching Felix’s ears vigorously just as the silly beast liked. “I’ll feel better when he’s old enough to guard your back when you travel. For now though…” Sighing, the blond got to his feet, careful to keep the most distinguished Barkon steady and safe in his hold. “You’re right. Say your goodbyes to him now, and then I can take him to Kattrin – she’ll keep him occupied. Once that’s done, I’ll meet you at the gate for _our_ goodbyes.”

Perhaps the bath, food and touching weren’t enough to make leaving better after all. Dorian found himself rather choked up when he took Felix into his arms. “You be good, my darling boy.” He murmured around the lump in his throat. “I’ll return as soon as I’m able, I promise you. Do take care of your da for me,” he added, watching Cullen blush at the title from the corner of his watery eyes. “He’ll go back to bad habits the moment I’ve left Skyhold.” Felix regarded him seriously, then let out a bark that was a mixture of authoritative and sad. Dorian bore the face-licking that came next, doing his best to pretend he wasn’t a heartbeat away from bursting into tears. “Yes yes. There we go. I’ll miss you Felix-love. Be good, and I’ll bring you back a treat.”

Cullen accepted Felix back after Dorian dropped a kiss to the top of Felix’s fuzzy head, giving Dorian an understanding smile and a brief kiss of his own. Then, once Cullen had slid his boots back on, the pair left, the Mabari giving that sorrowful howl all the way down the hall from the sound of it. He did hope the pup wouldn’t miss him too much, and that he’d be alright while Dorian was away. Cullen would look after him, of course, and probably spoil him rotten, but still. Leaving him – leaving them _both_ – was harder than he’d imagined it would be.

Alone where no one could see him, Dorian allowed himself to shed a few tears. His father and most of his countrymen would scoff at the show of _sentiment_ , but… well. One was allowed a bit of foolishness over those he loved.

~.~.~

Torches kept the gray pre-dawn light of Skyhold from being irredeemably gloomy; they did nothing to prevent Dorian from shivering as he made his way down to the main gate. By the time he reached it, he was cursing the cold and snow, and Solas for leading the bloody Inquisition to this Blighted _ice castle_ , and his Amatus for not allowing him to borrow that dreadful fur cloak of his. He was _cold_ , void take it, and he just wanted to crawl back into bed. At least when he arrived at the gate Sylaera wasn’t there yet – he’d have a few minutes longer of reprieve before he had to face her. Sera and Bull were there, of course, Bull speaking to Skinner and leaning on his giant war hammer. The Chargers had probably gone ahead, and the city elf would act as a runner between the two groups – when she saw him, she grinned and waved the knife she was toying with in his direction as a ‘hello’. He waved back with a rueful smile, fully prepared for Bull’s entire company to give him hell the whole way to the Storm Coast.

Strangely enough, Cassandra and Vivienne were both there as well – that was something he had not expected. The mage was watching Sera torment the Seeker over her book collection, one brow arched in either judgement or amusement – it was always hard to tell with her. Simply because he thought he could get away with it, he went to Vivienne first and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Sera immediately came to a full stop, eyes wide and fixed on the pair of them, mouth dropped wide enough to catch a whole hive of bees. Cassandra seemed stunned for a moment but collected herself quickly; Bull and Skinner were ignoring them. Vivienne only smiled, eyebrow relaxing as her expression turned just a hair more open.

“Ah, there you are darling. I was afraid you would find it too difficult to leave the warmth of your bed. I half-expected you to come running in at the last moment looking a mess, but here you are as dashing as ever. Good.”

“Seeker!” Sera hissed, pretending no one else could hear her. “He _kissed_ her! He kissed the witchy pisser and she didn’t make him bleed!”

“Hush, Sera.”

“But it’s-” Giving a sigh, Cassandra shifted to stand in front of Sera, allowing Vivienne and Dorian a bit of privacy and blocking out the elf’s words a little at the same time. He smiled and shook his head, then directed his attention back to the Court Enchanter.

“Good morning, my dear woman. I didn’t expect to see you this morning.” Frowning slightly, he took in her appearance, noting that she was again tidy and put together, her mask nearly impenetrable. That he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes Dorian took as a mark of her regard toward him. “How are you?”

“Oh, well enough I suppose. Though this place is _so_ dreary and dull, despite Josephine’s efforts. I can’t help but entertain thoughts of returning to Orlais.”

“You would leave me alone here, among these uncivilized, uncouth barbarians? If you abandon me, who will I argue with about fashion? Who will direct me to the best wine merchants? No, no – I insist you stay here, where you can do real good.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” The smile she gave was wintery and hard, iron coming back to her eyes. “I have little enough left to me anywhere else, after all. And Bastien’s son and sister are coming here to visit, so I suppose I must endure at least until then.” With that she stepped closer to him, and laid on cold hand against his cheek. “I just came to see you off, darling, and to wish you luck. Also, as I was sorting through some of my belongings, I happened upon a few odds and ends – potions, mainly, ones that you might find useful in a tight spot.” With her free hand, she passed over a small satchel; it was heavy with what he could only assume would be a small fortune in healing and lyrium potions, with perhaps one or two more ‘exotic’ mixes as well. “Do take care of yourself while you’re away. I should be very cross if you came to harm and left _me_ alone here.” When she leaned in to brush a kiss to his cheek, she whispered in a soft voice meant only for his ears. “Watch her, Dorian. The Inquisitor is not to be trusted – she will not hesitate to bleed any of us on a whim. Do not let her best you, my darling boy.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving without speaking so much as another word to anyone else. As he watched her sweep away, all elegance and a spine of steel, he wondered how much she _cared_ beneath all the layers of icy will and indifference. Idly, he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like if his mother had been more like her – Aquinea had all of Vivienne’s hard exterior, but had almost never shown him half as much regard. Vivienne would do well in Tevinter, he thought, for all that she abhorred the place.

Once she’d left his sight, Dorian wandered over to join Sera and Cassandra, tucking the precious satchel away in his bags as he did; he would investigate its contents later. The archer pulled a disgusted face at him, made a sign to ward against evil and then turned her back. “No talkin’ to me ‘til you don’t smell like a rich shit anymore!” she told him, bouncing over to skinner and leaping on her fellow city elf’s back – they began a playful tussle under Bull’s amused eye.

“I wasn’t aware you were so friendly with Vivienne.”

“Well, we speak the same language for the most part, and I must confess that she’s grown on me. Besides, after what happened with Bastien…”

“Ah. Yes. It was…” Cassandra’s mouth flattened into a hard line, and then she gave a snort of disgust. “It should not have happened as it did. The Inquisitor should not have – it was not right. For all I am not close to Vivienne, I do feel sympathy for her. Perhaps I should make that known.”

“Be careful how you do it or she’ll only snap at you.”

“I shall take that into consideration.”

“I know why I’m standing out here in the cold at this absolutely ridiculous hour, but why are you?”

“Oh. I… it’s nothing, really. Cullen informed me you would be going, and… well. It is truly nothing. I only thought-”

“As adorable as it is to watch you bluster, Seeker, I’m taken and not very interested in those of the female persuasion in any case. However, if you’re lonely, I do believe Varri-”

“UGH! You are insufferable!” Dorian took pleasure in the way her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and in the way she didn’t swat him for teasing. “I do not know why I bother. Here. Your dagger is shit.” The woman practically hurled a sheathed weapon at him, one he only just managed to catch. When he unsheathed the small blade, he almost fumbled it again, feeling his eyes go wide. “This is silverite! Seeker, you can’t-” He cut himself off, because when he looked up the woman was already walking away, every line in her body tight with irritation, and he felt absolutely awful about it. “Cassandra! Thank you!” he shouted after her, mind spinning as he tried to come up with a way to repay her for her act of (somewhat grudging) kindness.

He was so busy with such thoughts that he stopped paying attention to who was coming and going; as a result, Cullen was able to come up from behind him and wrap his arms around his waist without him even realizing the man had arrived. “She likes you.” Cullen murmured at his ear – Dorian could feel the smile curving his lips. 

“No, she likes _you_ and I just happen to be in your bed. She is my ‘friend’ by proxy only.”

“She knows you make me happy. She’ll look out for you when she can, in her own way.”

“Do tell her thank you again for me, won’t you?”

“Mmm. Your dagger is terrible, by the way. It is a good gift, one sorely needed.”

“I use it to cut herbs! It doesn’t need to-”

“Still. You never know when a small, quick blade may save your life. Make sure you keep it close.”

“… very well, Amatus. It is a lovely blade.” Maker’s breath, he could _feel_ the weight of Bull, Skinner, and Sera’s attention – he was pretty sure he could also hear the two women sniggering at him. This journey was going to be _such_ fun.

“When you return, I’ll make sure you have lessons on how to use it properly.”

“Trying to turn me into a warrior, Amatus?”

“No. Just trying to keep you alive.” Dorian heard a slight tremor in Cullen’s voice and immediately turned in the man’s arms, wrapping his around broad, steady shoulders. The blond heaved a sigh, then bent his neck to bring their foreheads together, their breath mingling visibly in the cold air. It felt like they were in their own, private world; Cullen was the only thing that existed to him just then, and it was perfect.

“I’ll be fine, Cullen. Don’t worry for me overmuch – I’ll return to you shortly, I swear it.” His words didn’t ease the concerned furrow he felt between his lover’s brow, nor did it ease Cullen’s tight hold on him even a little bit. “Amatus, I’ll be _fine_. You know I try to stay out of the thick of the fighting, and Sera and Bull at the very least will have my back. I’ll come home to you, and in one piece.”

“We can’t know that.”

“Well, no. Not for certain. But I believe it, Amatus – I feel it in my heart. I will always come back to you.” Almost before he finished speaking, Cullen’s mouth was on his, delivering a kiss that tasted of desperation and longing.

“I wish you did not have to go,” Cullen told him in a harsh whisper when their lips parted, his fingers clutching convulsively at Dorian. “I wish I were going with you. I wish you were not going to be so far away from me and with _her_. Maker help me, Dorian, but I want to keep you chained up in my bedroom where I know you’ll be _safe_.”

“No chains please, though I may not object much to a silken rope.”

“Dorian, please be serious.”

“I am – you’re just being ridiculous. I am the melodramatic one in this relationship, Cullen Rutherford, so do try to tone down your dramatics. You’re supposed to be the sensible one – we both know why I will do this, and why I will continue to join the Inquisitor on her little jaunts.”

“… yes. But I’m allowed to dislike it.”

“I suppose I can allow that.”

“I’m pleased to have your permission. Dorian, I-”

“Inquisitor incoming.” Bull called quietly, shattering the mood between them and allowing the real world to invade their private bubble. Despite feeling rather grumpy over that fact, Dorian still sent the Qunari a grateful look – it was better if Sylaera didn’t catch them completely unaware. To his surprise, however, Cullen didn’t completely let him go; when his Commander stepped back, he kept one arm around his waist in a possessive, protective hold, tucking Dorian close to his side. They both turned to face the direction that she would be coming from, and he braced himself, ready to see her glaring and growling at the picture of the two of them together. Would she be cutting and cruel, or would she ignore them? Would she demand a goodbye kiss from Cullen? Would she try to refuse to let Dorian have the same? Anxiety and anger formed a nauseous mix in his stomach, and he hoped that if he threw up he managed to do it on her boots. 

When he saw her face though, he received the shock of his life – the Lady Inquisitor was beaming at them, eyes friendly and expression full of warmth. It was so completely unexpected that he found himself unable to think or form any kind of greeting; he could only gape at her. He had a feeling Cullen was doing the same, because Skinner and Sera were snickering again.

“Morning Boss,” Bull greeted easily, shifting his war hammer so he could holster it on his back. “We been waitin’ for ya. Sent the Chargers ahead with Gatt… you ready to get on the road?”

“Almost, I think. It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it? Air’s nice and fresh, just the way I like it.”

“And cold.” Dorian managed, voice sounding a bit strange to his own ears. “Abysmally, awfully cold. Sylaera, may I petition you to move our base to the Hissing Wastes? It was so warm there… I miss it terribly.” To his continued surprise, the Inquisitor laughed merrily, striding towards him with that wide, happy smile still on her face.

“I think we’d best stay where we are, Dorian. The cold is made up for by the lack of Venatori, don’t you think?”

“Well if you’re going to be _sensible_ about it.”

“Josie and Leliana would scold if I wasn’t. I think Josie would cry if we had to uproot again, to be honest. Good morning, Commander Cullen.”

“Ah… that is… I mean… good morning?” His Amatus sounded bewildered and guarded, like he was certain this was a trap. And while it most assuredly was, there was no need to let on that they knew it. After Dorian covertly kicked his ankle, the blond managed a small smile of his own, shrugging a shoulder. “Forgive me. It’s been a long morning, and-”

“And you’re sad to see Dorian go, aren’t you? Don’t worry – I’ll take care of him for you.” There wasn’t a hint of a threat in her lyrical voice, but for a brief moment he caught a disturbing gleam in her eyes. He worked to suppress a shiver, then smiled up at Cullen when the man held him even tighter.

“I’m sad to lose the both of you.” Cullen answered evenly, sticking to his word about not antagonizing her just before she left his sights and took Dorian with her. “I shall miss you while you’re gone. I hope you’ll both take care and come back safely.”

“Of course we will – this is an easy job, really, and it’ll get us a treaty with the Qunari. Just think of it, Cullen! No one’s managed such a thing in… well, ever, and it will be the Inquisition that manages it. It will be _me_ who does it.” Dorian did shiver this time and briefly caught Bull’s eye – there was something in his gaze that twisted his stomach and made him distinctly uncomfortable. Still, it would be worth it, if they could gain an ally and interrupt the red lyrium trade doing it. He shouldn’t be so suspicious just because his people had been at war with the Qunari since before he was born.

“Yeah yeah, treaties and shit. Can we go kill some flappy robes now please?”

“Yeah, can we?” 

Sylaera laughed at Sera and Bull, her eyes never leaving Cullen’s face. “Of course – just a moment longer and we’ll be off.” She stepped forward, and Dorian almost lashed out; he didn’t want her anywhere _near_ his Amatus. And this was the moment he’d been dreading, the one where he’d have to watch them kiss… and then he would have to choose to kiss Cullen after her or leave without kissing his love one last time before leaving on a potentially deadly mission. Either way, he lost something, and either way he would spend the beginning of the trip wanting to kill her, and- … oh.

Sylaera had placed a soft, brief kiss on Cullen’s cheek, nothing more. 

Oh, this was a trap. He didn’t know how, or when it would spring, but this sudden shift in temperament couldn’t mean anything good for them. Dorian watched her carefully as she bid Cullen a fond but fairly professional goodbye and then went to join Bull. From the way she was looking at the Qunari, he was fairly certain that he and Sera (and possibly Skinner) would be bunkmates on the way to their destination. It should have made him feel better, but it only felt like another layer of the trap. Still, he couldn’t let it distract him from saying goodbye to his Amatus, not even if he could see the same suspicion in the man’s dark eyes when they turned to face each other.

Reaching up, Dorian cupped the back of the man’s neck and brought his forehead back to rest against his own once again. They couldn’t reach that private world of their own again, but it was better than nothing. “Kattrin is under strict instruction to make sure you eat, Amatus,” he started, hating that his voice sounded rough and his eyes were stinging with tears he refused to shed. “If you don’t, I shall be forced to finally show you my pout when I return and you will finally know its full power.”

“Will she be reporting on my every move, or just my eating habits?”

“If I say only your eating habits, will you believe me?”

“No.” Dorian loved the little smile tugging at Cullen’s lips so much he wasn’t even upset that the man saw right through him. Maker’s breath he was going to miss him.

“Then yes, she’ll be giving me a broad overview of your doings. Let her feed you, Amatus. She’s also going to attempt to make you smile once per day – humor her, will you?”

“If I must.”

“Thank you Amatus. Take care of Felix and yourself, and don’t let Cassandra force you out of bed too early in the morning. If Dagna asks you to… do anything, really, tell her no and that she should wait until I come back to move forward with our experiments. And if-” Cullen’s lips claimed his in a sweet, lingering kiss that seemed to last for an eternity, cutting off his words. That kiss was followed by a second, and then a third; when the blond finally pulled back completely, Dorian had utterly forgotten the warning he was about to deliver.

“I’ll be fine, Dorian. I’ll be safe in Skyhold – you watch yourself. If you come to any harm I’ll… I couldn’t… well. I really will chain you to my bed if I must. So please be careful.” His eyes darted to Sylaera, then came back to Dorian’s; the worry he saw in them meant he just _had_ to kiss the man again.

“I’ll see you on my return, Amatus. I love you.”

“I love you too. Felix and I will be waiting.”

It was so very difficult to leave Cullen behind and walk out that front gate – it had never been so hard to say goodbye to anyone before, and Dorian wasn’t sure he liked it. Only knowing that he and Barkon Felix _would_ be there on his return, both still his, made the struggle worthwhile. Even better, when he came back Cullen would be his alone, and Sylaera would no longer have any claim on him besides in his duties as Commander of the Inquisitions forces. They would be allowed to be together, and… happy, something he hadn’t ever really considered as an option for himself. In Tevinter, it never would have _really_ been a possibility – he’d never have held the heart of any of his paramours, or trusted them with his. Despite their inauspicious beginning, the way they’d gone behind the backs of Bull and Sylaera, Dorian was sure that they were safe with each other.

When he came back, they would both promise never to sleep with other people.

The thought kept him smiling even though he was freezing, and even though he was heading into danger with a leader who was quite possibly entirely insane. It kept him smiling even when Sera and Bull began to poke fun at the marks on his neck and even when Sylaera’s good mood began to fade, her remarks becoming more cutting and her expression closing up completely. Knowing that he loved Cullen and Cullen loved him, and that they would be utterly faithful to each other until the end – whatever that may be – was shield enough to protect him from anything the world was about to throw his way.

Finally, he was ready reach for what he wanted, and hold on tight to it with all his strength.

He was finally ready to _live_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so weird for this story to be over! I started it almost a year ago after stumbling into writing fanfiction and then into the K-meme section of the Dragon Age fandom. I know I left a lot of people hanging for a long time, but... I guess it's my process? I get wrapped up in things and obsessed, and then my attention shifts to the next thing. So I went from Alysia and Jarod to Cullen and Dorian, and then I fell into the Marvel fandom (namely Stony and then WinterIron) and never quite found my way back to the world of DA entirely until now. I can always apologize for it, but I've learned the hard way this past year that I can't promise it will never happen again. Because this is Dorianmance Week, I do plan to stick mostly with these two for the next little bit - after that, I'm going to _try_ to spread my attention around more evenly, but who knows if my brain can manage such a thing.
> 
> There's still story left for these two despite the ending of this fic. I will post at least two shorts in this universe this week, and may start the next installment of the main story as well - it depends on what my muse is into. If you have any prompts for these two lovebirds, set in this universe or another, please send them to my Ask Box on my [Tumblr!](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/) It's almost my birthday and I could use some fun prompts and other writings to keep me from freaking out about turning 30. XD
> 
> Thanks so much to those of you who have hung on with me through this whole thing, and I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. You're all absolutely lovely, and thanks again for reading!
> 
> For reals tho, you should comment. XD
> 
> <33


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